


Old Friends: A New Direction

by Alkeni



Series: Old Friends [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vampires on Other Worlds, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-03-31 22:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3996160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alkeni/pseuds/Alkeni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SG-1 visits a planet with viable Trinium deposits, and locals that are willing to let the SGC mine them. But when the world is shown to have...hostile nightlife, Daniel realizes they need his old friend, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Angel the Series, I don't own Stargate SG-1

Thanks to Starway Man for being my beta-reader

Timeline-wise, this fic takes place after episode 3x18 "Double Or Nothing" for Angel, and has some scenes that occur during episode 3x19 "The Price". For Stargate SG-1, this takes place after episode 5x3 "Ascension".

And yes, I'm well aware that the timelines of the two shows don't fit – basically, the Stargate SG-1 timeline has been moved to fit the Angel timeline for the needs of the fic, just as it was moved for the needs of the prequel fic, 'Old Friends'.

If you haven't read 'Old Friends', you should, as this fic will make a great deal more sense once you've done that.

Old Friends: A New Direction

By Alkeni

Chapter 1

**April 25th, 2002  
Stargate Command, Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado**

Daniel checked the clock. Still thirty minutes before the briefing before SG-1's next mission. That meant he had fifteen minutes before he had to leave to get there five minutes before the meeting started, as was his wont. Teal'c would probably be there already – he usually was – and it was a toss up if he'd be right behind Sam or Sam would be right behind him.

Jack, as usual, would come in right on time, usually _exactly_ on time. More, Daniel suspected, out of a desire to push the limits of the rules than out of being busy with other things beforehand. 

So, given that he had some spare time, Daniel started sorting through his mail. Most of his personal mail arrived here rather than actually ending up at his apartment, given how often Daniel ended up staying at the base overnight, sometimes by accident, sometimes on purpose. Mail such as his letters from Wesley.

Daniel frowned after he went through the mail, then went through it again.

Nothing from Wes. 

This was odd. In fact, Wesley's letters had been arriving later than they usually did over the last few months. They'd long since developed a fairly regular rate of back and forth – not anything deliberate, just each of their own rhythms.

Daniel hadn't thought much of anything of it – he'd just assumed things were busy in L.A., what with Connor and all the threats to the young child born of two vampires.

_And hadn't that been an interesting thing to find out about?_

Wesley didn't go into much detail about the supernatural side of his work in his letters to Daniel, even though, since his visit to L.A. last October, Daniel knew about it – demons, vampires, magic...the real job of Angel Investigations. At first, Daniel had thought it was because his old friend didn't want to expose him to that sort of thing. Not someone whom Wesley believed was working a normal nine to five job; or at least as much as being a military consultant related to his line of work, anyway. But eventually, he'd figured it out.

The reason for not bringing up all the details of his work in his letters to his friend...Daniel had figured out why: Wesley wanted to have one social contact that wasn't completely overtaken by the supernatural. From Daniel knew about Wesley's upbringing as a 'Watcher'...well, he could read between the lines in both Wesley's letters and the conversations they'd had in L.A. before he'd left...

He'd been raised practically since birth to be involved in the supernatural, including working spells since a very early age – though he didn't know how early – and been at least ankle, if not waist or chest, deep in the supernatural world for essentially his entire life.

But...well, it was hard to leave it all out, and so Daniel had learned about Connor – about Darla and the miracle child that was prophesied to be born to her and Angel. About the way all of them at Angel Investigations were contributing towards helping bring the child up, to protect him, and to understand just what his presence meant.

_But,_ Daniel returned his thoughts to his stack of mail, _even given his inconsistent schedule these days, I should have one by now._ It had been quite a few weeks since his last letter from Wesley.

_And_ , Daniel thought just a little guiltily, _I've been so busy that I've not given it much thought. I should call Wes, see if he's alright – I mean, he's probably just caught up in something, but still._ Wesley was his friend – at the very least, a phone call could make sure the man came up for air from whatever new project or translation had taken all his attention – or case, Daniel supposed. 

Unfortunately, it would have to wait, Daniel realized. He'd taken longer going through the stack of mail than he'd thought, and now it was time to go attend the meeting...

**April 25th, 2002  
P5X-194**

Daniel shaded his eyes against the alien sun as they stepped through the Stargate onto a new planet. His first move, then, was to put on his sunglasses.

There didn't seem to be anything immediately remarkable about this planet – it was one of those that they'd taken from the Abydos Cartouche, which presumably meant prior Goa'uld visitation, and possibly even occupation. There were no obvious signs of human habitation near the gate, but that was far from unusual.

“So which way do we go then, Jack?” Daniel asked the USAF Colonel, looking around. 

The Gate was in an open clearing, trees around them on all sides. As usual, they looked like Pacific-Northwest trees, and not for the first time Daniel wondered why it was so many planets with gates in forested regions had that. The largely temperate nature was likely part of it...

Jack had joked that the Gatebuilders must have had some sort of love affair with the Pacific-Northwest. Daniel guessed it was likely coincidence – the trees weren't the same as the ones in the similar climate zone on Earth, but it made sense that, given how Earth-like a planet had to be to support human life, that similar circumstances might create similar creatures and plant life. 

Superficially similar, anyway. 

“Carter, the M.A.L.P. still isn't picking up any obvious energy signatures?”

Sam checked the machine once more, then looked back up at the Colonel. “No, sir, nothing.”

Jack seemed about to select a direction at random when Teal'c called out from the clearing's edge over on the left, “O'Neil!”

“Well, I guess we're going that way.” Jack said philosophically and the three humans went over to where the Jaffa was. When he saw the large stone pillar hidden from obvious view by the tree cover, Daniel realized why Teal'c had called them over.

“It is a Goa'uld warning.” Teal'c said, pointing to the symbols on the stone, carved large enough to be read from some distance.

“What's it say?”

“I am unsure of the direct translation,” Teal'c admitted, frowning, but Daniel could come up with a fairly decent paraphrase.

“It's the Goa'uld equivalent of 'here there be dragons',” Daniel explained.

“Dragons?” Sam didn't openly question his word choice, but he could pick it up in her tone.

“Well, not actual dragons. But it's the same kind of thing that saw sea monsters be drawn on the edge of European maps in the Middle Ages. The region in question was unknown or frightening – something there meant people trying to go there didn't come back. This is the same kind of warning – whatever this is about, it's something the Goa'uld are scared of enough to admit it, and leave a marker about it. And to sign it.” Daniel crouched down and pulled some vines off the bottom of the stone.

“The symbol of Nirrtii.” Teal'c said softly.

“Nirtii?” Jack frowned, and Sam looked angry just at the Goa'uld's mention. Hardly surprising, given...well, that it was Nirtii. “Something actually scared _her_ off?”

“Enough to leave this marker and sign it.” Daniel confirmed, standing back up. “Of course, whatever it is could be long gone.” Not that he necessarily believed that...

“Or it might not be.” Sam pointed out. “Some kind of hostile native life, like the bugs on BP6-3Q1.” She saw the looks on the others' faces, “Well, obviously not them,” she rushed to explain, “If they were here, they'd be coming at us already. They'd have to be.”

Before Jack or anyone else could say anything, they heard the sounds of people moving around them, and a half-dozen men and women in worn but well-made leather armor, crossbows leveled at them, stepped out of the tree cover to the north and south, three in either direction.

They hadn't been stealthy enough to stop SG-1 from having their own weapons at the ready.

“Howdy, folks?” Jack offered, by now unfortunately used to the locals pointing their weapons at him.

“You came through the Great Ring.” One of them said. 

“That we did.” Jack agreed, “Is that a problem?” He kept his tone level and calm. Fortunately, the one talking didn't seem all that jumpy, which was always a plus.

“It would be a greater problem for us both, had you come through when the sun was down.” The man told them, “But you brandish weapons despite being guests.”

“Well, you're pointing weapons at your guests.” Jack pointed out in turn.

“This is true.” The man replied, “But you are also strangers. We do not receive many visitors through the Great Ring – only ones such as this one.” He gestured to Teal'c. “He is Jaffa.”

“He's not on the side of the Goa'uld, not anymore.” Daniel said immediately. “He no longer serves them, and fights to defeat them. You don't need to be afraid of him.”

“We aren't afraid. No Jaffa that come though the Great Ring ever stay long, even if they survive here.”

Teal'c decided to be unusually expressive and raised an eyebrow. “Your equipment does not appear to be sufficient to defeat trained Jaffa warriors.”

Rather than taking offense, the locals laughed. After a moment, the leader saw fit to explain, “It is not we who drive off or kill the Jaffa.”

“Who does?” Jack asked, his tone the same it would be if he was asking 'ya think?'

“Does – whoever drives off the Jaffa. Is it related to this?” Daniel put his hand on the warning stone.

“It does.” The leader replied, “But that which protects our world from the Goa'uld is no boon upon us. The Nightwalkers are enemies of all, human and Jaffa alike.” The man lowered his crossbow and gestured for his fellows to do the same. “But the Nightwalkers are not a matter to be spoken of between strangers. I am Jaresh, and these are my fellow hunters – Nejan, Taris, Keth, Naria and Fala.” He pointed to each in turn. 

“Colonel Jack O'Neill.” Jack lowered his own weapon, and the rest of SG-1 did the same. “That's Teal'c, Major Samantha Carter and Daniel Jackson.” 

“We're peaceful explorers from the planet Earth.” Daniel explained. “We'd like to learn about your people, your culture – maybe about these 'Nightwalkers' you spoke of.”

Jaresh considered Daniel's words a moment, then shook his head, “I will not speak of the Nightwalkers to you – it is not my place to do so. But if Sister Agata deems you worthy, then she will speak of them to you.”

“Sister Agata?”

“The Voice of the High Powers – those who spoke in our forefathers' dreams and told us how to hold off the Nightwalkers after the Goa'uld abandoned this world to them.”

Daniel wasn't sure what to make of all this. The obvious conclusion was that there was some kind of native race that had posed a threat to the Goa'uld occupation of the planet, and driven them off. The humans left behind had then been forced to fend for themselves.

_It's probably a local myth perpetuated after the locals found out how to fight these 'Nightwalkers'._ Or there could be some kind of further truth in these 'High Powers'.

Daniel turned to Jack, “If these 'Nightwalkers' are enough to drive off the Goa'uld, then we should learn more about them, if we can.”

“I'm right there with you, Daniel.” Jack agreed. “Though I'm not sure how I feel about having to be judged worthy by the locals first. What happens if we fail?”

“If the Voice for Tellis deems you unworthy, you will not be told of the Nightwalkers, nor be welcome in Tellis or any other towns of our people. But you will be free to leave this world unmolested by us.” Jaresh explained.

“How far is this 'Tellis', then?” Jack asked, guessing that Tellis was some kind of village or town.

Jaresh looked up to the sky a moment, then back down, “It is midday now. We would be there before the afternoon was truly upon us, if we hurry.”

“Alright. What the hell.” Jack gestured for Jaresh to lead them to 'Tellis'. “Lead on, Macduff.” At the confused expression on the man's face, Jack added, “Sorry. We'll follow you.”

**April 25th, 2002  
P5X-194**

The walk took, by Daniel's watch, about an hour to get them from the Gate to 'Tellis'. The forest was not, as it turned out, as thick as it appeared in this direction – they were out of the tree cover in a little under thirty minutes, coming out into an open plain, some hills in the distance. The flat openness of the land all the way to the hills allowed them to see structures in the distance. 

That, as they'd been informed, was Tellis.

Overall, however, Jaresh and his fellows hadn't seemed that interested in talking. When Daniel had tried to get them to talk about other things – these 'High Powers' for example, or just anything, really. Unfortunately, he didn't get much. 

The locals were less hostile than they could have been, but also less friendly. Still, he could work with that. SG-1 wasn't a threat to them, or a threat to their way of life. He'd managed to convince people on dozens of planets of that. 

Confidence, yes, but confidence Daniel had earned. And he never rested on it.

When they drew closer to the town, Daniel noticed two things immediately. One, all the buildings were made out of stone, which seemed odd for a community that appeared to be at a middle ages level of technology. Not only the crossbows themselves, but the methods used on the farms they'd passed along the way – interestingly though, there hadn't been any farm houses or huts either. It seemed all the farmers lived in the town.

Buildings of stone were usually, in societies like this, reserved for public structures, or homes for the wealthy or elite of the society. 

But the thing that really drew the eye was the large strange, stylized axe – well, it looked kind of like an axe, though not any kind of axe he'd seen before – made of a very familiar metal out in front of the town. 

It was clearly an art object, a symbol of some kind – it was too large to be practical for all but the tallest people, and even the handle was made of that metal.

“Carter.” Jack asked slowly, “Is that thing made of what I think it is?”

Sam looked at it, “I think so, sir. I'll need to examine it more closely, but I'm pretty sure it's Trinium.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Angel the Series or Stargate SG-1. No money is being made off of this, and as I am presently unemployed, I am not worth suing anyway.

Thanks to Starway Man, my Beta

This chapter grew to be significantly longer than originally planned, but sometimes, that just happens.

Old Friends: A New Direction

By Alkeni

Chapter 2

**April 25th, 2002  
Tellis, P5X-194**

The Hall of the High Powers was an imposing structure, as much a fortress as a holy place, and yet the feeling of...peace when SG-1 entered was unmistakable. That feeling lasted for merely a moment, but it was enough.

The outside of the structure had been adorned with more designs of that strange almost-axe, though none were made of trinium. And the motif featured in tapestries all along the walls in the grand hall that they found themselves in. Young warrior women, each bearing the weapon, fighting masses of shadowy, misshapen figures – their features seemingly shrouded in darkness...

They were excellent tapestries, as such things went. Daniel by no means was a specialist in judging such a visual medium, but he'd studied a fair few in various classes at Oxford, and he'd kept himself informed of the scholarship in any number of fields other than Egyptology, even before he'd joined the SGC. And artistically, he thought they were quite interesting as well.

Jaresh was the only one of their guides to stay with them – the other five had peeled off and headed to other parts of the town – and to Daniel's eye, it seemed like a lively and active enough community. They'd seen what looked like a market square down one street, and people going about their daily business. The four strangers arriving in their midst had attracted attention, true, and Daniel had noticed a few gasps at the sight of Teal'c and the Jaffa emblem on his forehead; but as a whole, SG-1 didn't provoke reactions of outright fear or terror. 

It might have been because they were being 'escorted' by six of their own – all six seemed to be well known, greeted by various passers-by, which probably explained the townspeople's reactions.

“I shall speak to the Voice and determine if she can meet with you at this time.” Jaresh abruptly told Daniel and his friends. “Wait here.”

Without another word, Jaresh disappeared behind a side-door, leaving the four members of SG-1 alone in in the hall, only the various tapestries for company.

“Did anyone see any more Trinium?” Jack asked the other members of his team, but they all shook their heads. 

“Trinium isn't easy to work, but we saw with the Salish on PXY-887 that it could be worked in small amounts by a local population with pre-industrial technology. Still, working that much Trinium? It'd be, well...difficult for these people to accomplish.” Sam told the Colonel. “We may not see more in this town. Of course, the real question is just how much more there is on this planet.”

“And if the people here would be willing to allow the SGC to mine it at all.” Teal'c pointed out. 

“There's that.” Jack agreed. He looked over to Daniel, who just shrugged.

“We just met these people, and they simply weren't that talkative on the way here.” The archeologist pointed out. “Okay, I didn't get the impression that they have a particular reverence for nature – if this really is the local religion, they seem much more interested in weaponry and fighting what I presume are the Nightwalkers.” He gestured to the shrouded, misshapen figures on the tapestries. “So, they might not share the same concerns that the Salish did about us mining their planet for its resources.”

Daniel shrugged again, “But again, I can't say with any confidence if they'd be willing to make the trade. Hopefully, their Voice will be willing to call us worthy and we can stick around long enough to find out.”

“Find out what?” A soft, female voice said from the door that Jaresh had left through. 

Daniel turned to stare at the new arrival: the woman was tall, thin and young, long brown hair flowing halfway down her back. She wore a full-length white gown, and it looked thick enough to be as good as a coat against a stiff wind. Around her neck a silver chain ended in an amulet that – unsurprisingly enough – took the shape of the same axe they'd been seeing all over the building and its interior. She seemed...not entirely in the now, and she managed to walk almost as if she was floating. 

“Sister Agata?” Jack asked. He offered a hand, “Colonel Jack O'Neill.”

The woman looked at Jack for a moment, then accepted his hand, shaking it. “Jaresh tells me you have come through the Great Ring. That you wish to know of the Nightwalkers.”

“True.” Jack agreed. “Though we'd also like to find out about your Trinium too.” 

Agata retrieved her hand, letting it rest by her side as she looked at the new arrivals, “Trinium? I do not know that word.”

“Ah, sorry. The metal that the symbol – the axe-looking thing – out front of your town is made of.” Daniel gestured with his thumb back in the direction of the symbol, though he hardly needed to. 

“The symbol, as you call it, is known as the Scythe.” Agata corrected him gently. All the members of SG-1 could hear the capital letter in that name, though Daniel's first thought was more on how that was hardly what a scythe looked like. _Maybe there's something off in the translation, or else their society has developed a linguistic and/or cultural quirk...._

Although no one at the SGC knew how, most languages seemed to be translated – for speaking, anyway – by the Stargate, for those that passed through it. It was odd, especially given how some languages didn't get translated, but it also made some sense – as far as Daniel knew, the Gatebuilders had originally intended for their creation to be a galaxy-wide network for interstellar travel. Most likely, they wouldn't have wanted language barriers getting in the way of that too much...

“It is the symbol of the High Powers.” Agata continued, “We call the metal it is made from 'Pure Steel'. Unfortunately, the secrets of its working have been lost since the last of the Goa'uld magic was used by our forefathers to forge a Symbol of the Scythe for every town that then existed.”

She waved a hand, “We may discuss it further, later. First, tell me: Why have you come to this world?”

That was Daniel's cue. “We're peaceful explorers, from the planet Earth.” He explained, stepping forward a bit. 

Before he could get any further, Agata interrupted him, saying, “Yet you come through the Great Ring armed with weapons. Weapons whose working are a mystery even to Jaresh.” She said that as if it was surprising that Jaresh wouldn't understand how a weapon worked. “Is it fueled by the same strange liquid that powers the magic of the Jaffa firestaves?”

“Uh, no, it...it's not magic. Just technological and scientific principles that you don't understand yet.” Daniel explained carefully. “If you had the right materials, tools and information, you could make such 'firestaves' yourselves.” Then he added, “And as for why we're armed: Well...we have peaceful intentions when we step through the, um, 'Great Ring', but we cannot be assured that everyone we meet will be as peaceful of intent as we are.”

Deep down, Daniel was a little surprised – and fascinated – that these people understood the connection between the liquid naquadah core of a staff weapon and its functioning. Not only must they have taken such a weapon apart and studied it carefully, but they must have had one or more to examine in the first place. Left behind by the Jaffa killed by the 'Nightwalkers', likely.

_But that begs the question – why didn't these Nightwalkers take them?_

“I understand. And yes, such caution is wise.” Agata agreed after a moment, “It is unfortunate that it is needed at all, but...the High Powers give us this universe as it is, not as we'd wish it to be.” She looked at them all, then her eyes settled on Daniel. “You speak for your companions, but this one,” she pointed lightly to Jack, “is your leader?”

“Jack's the head of SG-1, yes-” Daniel agreed. Once again, before he could say any more, Agata had interrupted him.

“For what purpose do you explore? Do you seek merely knowledge, or is there something you seek? This 'Trinium'?” 

Daniel saw that Jack was getting just a little impatient with the questioning – not much, but part of it had to be the slow, almost airy way that 'Sister Agata' spoke. He resolved to ignore it. “A bit of both,” Jackson admitted, “I – that is, we – want to learn more about you, your people, your culture. But we also seek to find technologies or resources that could be used to help my world, or to help defend it from the Goa'uld. We look for allies and peoples to trade with.” 

Agata approached him and reached out a hand, “Take my hand.” 

Curious as to where this was going, Daniel took her hand as instructed, after Jack gave him the silent go-ahead. “As you wish.” 

Agata lifted their hands until they were almost level with their faces. “Speak truthfully and with no obfuscation: Do you, your fellows or your people intend harm on the people of this world? Will you deliver injury without first being injured yourselves?” 

“I can't speak for every person on my world.” Daniel said after a moment, feeling like he should be as exact as possible, “But neither myself, nor anyone on SG-1, nor the people we work under and report to, intend unprovoked harm to you and your people.” Daniel said that with pure confidence – he knew General Hammond wouldn't be putting the lie to his words, and even the President had proven time and again he would think the same. 

_Otherwise, Hammond would have been sacked and the N.I.D. running the show by now._

“You choose your words carefully, but you speak nothing but the truth.” Agata let his hand go, and Daniel let it fall back to his side. She looked to Jaresh and nodded, then her gaze went to Jack. “Very well. You and your team are welcome in Tellis.” She bowed her head slightly, and after an urgent gesture from Daniel, Jack returned the slight bow.

“Good to know.” Jack told the Voice right on cue.

“Yes. You wish to know of the Nightwalkers, then? Or would you rather speak of the Pure Steel first?” Agata raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, I'd like to know...where is it found, on your world?” Sam asked after a moment, “And do you know how much of it there is?”

“The Goa'uld enslaved our forefathers and used them to extract it from beneath the earth.” Agata began, looking faintly troubled, “Before the Nightwalkers drove them away, there was still much left, or so it was said. We do not mine it ourselves; but nonetheless, one of the old mining sites is not far from Tellis, in the Jiero Hills.” She gestured airily, presumably in the direction of said hills.

“Okay. So, who owns it? You guys?” Jack asked – he was already wondering, how could they negotiate mining rights to the Trinium?

“The land does belong to Tellis, yes.” Agata answered. “From your words, I take it you seek to mine the Pure Steel for your world?”

“Not us, specifically,” Daniel explained, “But others of our people, whose job it is to do such things, using equipment from our world to make accomplishing the task easier. But please be assured, we won't undertake mining operations without permission from your people. So, I guess the next question is – who in Tellis would we speak with about getting that permission?”

“Me.” Jaresh spoke up for the first time since he'd returned with Agata. “Until the next election anyway, as Lord Defender – I represent Tellis to all the other towns. So, under our laws, I would represent it to you as well.”

“That's convenient.” Jack commented, nodding. “So, I guess that changes the question, then – can we have access to the mine? And if so, what would you want in exchange for it?”

“I am as yet unsure as to what you might have to offer that would be useful to us. Your weapons look formidable, but I suspect they'd be of limited use against Nightwalkers – save for the Jaffa's staff.” He nodded towards the weapon in Teal'c's hand. “But before any such discussion can begin, there is something you must know first, about the mine.”

_Ah, right, here's the other shoe. Right on time, more or less._ Daniel could see similar thoughts on the faces of the rest of his team. It was an all too-common thing, unfortunately. Every time they got close to getting something – technology, allies, resources...something problematic always came up. The other SG Teams didn't run into the same kind of catches _every single time_ , though it happened to them too, from time to time.

“What's the catch, then?” Sam asked after a moment, sounding just a teensy bit resigned.

“The mine in question is a home to Nightwalkers. They use the extensive tunnels as their refuge during the daylight hours.”

“And I'm guessing these Nightwalkers wouldn't be happy for anyone to start mining their home.” It wasn't a question, even if Jack's words could have been.

“They would kill your miners without a second thought, or even a first one.” Jaresh agreed. “Just as they would kill any of my people who went there. It is a never-ending battle. We have tried covering the entrance, but they always find other ways out.”

“And you've been fighting the Nightwalkers since the Goa'uld left?”

“Ever since,” Jaresh answered Daniel's question. “Many generations have lived and died since then – but we have survived, and we have adapted to our unfortunate reality as best we can.”

Daniel looked to Jack and raised an eyebrow. The Colonel shrugged and Daniel turned back to Jaresh. “Well, if they reside inside the mine, then I guess that's something we'll have to deal with.” Something Daniel couldn't identify was niggling at the back of his mind, but since he couldn't figure out what it was, he paid it little mind. Part of him was almost instinctively urging him to find some kind of peaceful resolution between the humans of this world and these 'Nightwalkers'.

He'd been traveling through the Stargate long enough to know that something like that wasn't guaranteed, by any means...but he'd certainly try, if he could. 

“I'm uh, still unclear on a few things. So, um...what are these Nightwalkers, exactly? And why are they so hostile?” Daniel asked after a few seconds of silence.

“And why do you think our guns would be useless against them?” Jack added, making the military consideration his priority. It bothered Daniel, still, but much less than it might have in the past – part of the reason Jack focused on it so much, he suspected, was because he was here to handle the rest.

“With regards to the second question? Nightwalkers are resilient against injuries that would kill any normal man.” Jaresh explained, “They can only be killed by exploiting certain weaknesses – sunlight and fire being the most deadly to them. Jaffa firestaves are thus excellent weapons, but Nightwalkers can move at speeds faster than the staves can spit their flame.” He turned from Jack back to Daniel.

“And as regards to your questions – in essence the Nightwalkers are beings of pure, soulless evil. They cannot be reasoned with, they cannot bargained with – long ago, some among us died attempting to do such a thing. Our enemy exists merely to feed and kill, to bring horrors on those in their power. Although they can feed on the nearby wildlife if they must, it is on the blood of living men and women that they always seek to gorge themselves on. And it is from our bodies that they create more of their own, as they are corpses that nonetheless walk. Sunlight, fire, decapitation and wood embedded in their hearts. Those are the only ways we know to slay them. Everything else may slow them down, even harm them for a time; but a Nightwalker always recovers, if given enough time and blood to do so.”

Daniel had felt his face go pale over the course of Jaresh's speech, and he realized exactly what the man was talking about.

Also, he wondered why the possibility had never before occurred to him. Not that the 'Nightwalkers' were vampires...until those telltale clues about blood, sunlight, walking corpses...

But the idea of vampires on other planets...why hadn't it occurred to him? If the undead really were as widespread as Wesley and his friends had suggested...one or more of them could have been inadvertently scooped up by the Goa'uld, when they took groups of humans to transplant them on other worlds...

_My God – there could be vampires all over the galaxy..._

Even on worlds they'd been to. Most worlds had only had a fairly short survey by an SG team, the galaxy was huge enough there was no time for detailed exploration...

Before Daniel could say anything, though, he heard Sam scoff, “Jaresh – are you talking about _vampires_?”

Jaresh turned to her, “So, you are also familiar with them – I take it you know them by another name?”

“Well, yes, but – I mean, they're just a myth.” Sam shook her head, “A legend. They're not real!”

Jaresh frowned at her, “I have seen many of my friends and compatriots killed by the Nightwalkers, Major Samantha Carter. I have been forced to kill Nightwalkers wearing the flesh of my friends. They are very real.”

“But – a corpse is a corpse. It can't rise up after death, and there's no reason why wood in the heart exclusively would kill a-” Sam started. Daniel interrupted her.

“Hang on. They might not actually be technically dead, Sam.” Daniel interrupted, even though he knew...well, they were. “Besides, many of the ancient myths on Earth are actually true – the gods weren't actually gods, and they didn't use magical powers, sure. But they were based on something real, and described in terms our ancestors understood. So why can't the legends and myths of the vampire be based on something real?”

“Well...alright.” Sam had to concede that point. After everything they'd seen over the years – including the seemingly magical nature of 'Ascended' beings...especially just a short time ago, with Orlin... “I guess. So...vampires.”

“Such a creature would be a challenge to slay.” Teal'c noted, frowning. 

“Yes. They are.” Jaresh agreed, “As long as one stays behind a threshold, and does not directly invite a Nightwalker inside – one is safe, even at night. Holy Ground itself is safe as well – the Scythe repels them, and they cannot directly touch it without feeling great agony.”

“And do they come out every night?” Jack asked, trying to keep things civilized – even if he was just as skeptical about the whole 'vampire' thing as Sam was. “I mean, if you know they're around – you don't go out at night, right?”

“Most of us, yes, but there are always some who attempt to do so. Not always perfectly – we lose people to the...vampires, though far less than we might.” Jaresh agreed, “And every night they come. Centuries ago, they used fire to burn us out of our homes, to force us into the open to feast upon. Ever since, we have built all our homes out of stone to prevent this. But they always come, and beyond the town limits, they can and do catch people with impunity. And then there are always those among our youth who decide they are capable of fighting the Nightwalkers on their own...” Jaresh's expression grew pained.

“Could we get to and back from the mine before nightfall?” Jack asked. “I'd like to see these things first hand.”

“It is possible, but I would not recommend such action.” Jaresh replied, “You are too few to take on such a concentration of Nightwalkers, and you are not properly equipped for such a fight. And I will not send any of my men out with you. I cannot risk their lives for nothing, that way.”

“We're willing to take the risk.” Jack said. The rest of his team didn't disagree. Even Daniel – despite the fact that he knew what they were really up against.

_They have to see it for themselves first hand, or else they'll never believe it..._

Daniel knew _he_ had certainly had to see it first hand. Part of him still didn't believe it – didn't want to believe it – but...

Some things you simply had to see for yourself, before you could let yourself believe that the monsters out there really were real.

Agata took a breath and then turned around, walking towards one of the tapestries. She lifted it, revealing an alcove with a small table. She took four sharpened sticks. Stakes. 

“If you insist on such action, take these.” Agata told them when she returned, extending the stakes towards them. 

Daniel didn't hesitate to take one, and neither did Teal'c. Jack hesitated a moment – like Sam, he was skeptical, but at the same time – well, what would it hurt? Sam took even longer, but finally took one as well. She was a scientist, but she was also a soldier – it wouldn't hurt to have the stake along, and it wouldn't do to offend their hosts, either. So what harm could it do to humor Sister Agata this way?

Daniel figured that the thought going through Sam's head might be something like 'If it does work and I don't have one when I need one...?' but then, his perceptions were colored by his experiences in L.A., all those months ago.

**April 25th, 2002  
Between Tellis and the Trinium Mine, P5X-194**

It was only once they had left the town, with detailed directions to the old mining site, that Jack turned to Daniel with a Look on his face. 

“All right. Level with me, space monkey. You _really_ think these things are vampires?”

“I think these things might be the origins of the vampire myth.” Daniel replied, which had the advantage of being entirely true. “I'm not saying,” Daniel looked to Sam a moment, “That they're actually the undead we've all seen in films and on TV; reanimated bodies of dead people, and all that. But whatever these Nightwalkers really are, Sister Agata and Jaresh weren't making anything up. They believe these things are a real threat, and I'm convinced that Jaresh has certainly seen _something_.”

Jack nodded. He'd figured their hosts were telling the truth – as far as they knew it. He turned to Sam. “Okay, theories?”

“Well, I suppose the sunlight thing could be just a weird form of allergy – we've seen it before – and the blood drinking in theory _could_ be explained by Hemophillia. Or at least some kind of variation that mutated on this world, or something, though I don't understand how it could possibly be transmitted from person to person. As for that thing about a stake in the heart – well, any of us would die if someone managed to stick a piece of sharpened wood into our hearts.” Sam pointed out. “I'm just guessing here, but this was a world Nirtii ruled. She's shown she has no problem with using diseases as weapons. Maybe she was testing one here, and...” She shrugged, “Maybe she turned the genetic disorder into a virus? I don't know.” She grimaced as she said that. “Maybe it makes these Nightwalkers incredibly resistant to pain, so they might not drop after the best these people can do – but I can't see how our P-90s wouldn't be able to hurt and kill them, if a staff weapon can kill them.”

“So, bottom line, we simply don't know much of anything for sure.” O'Neill said. It wasn't a question. “Okay. This is an opportunity we can't pass up, if there's any way to manage it – a place where the locals are willing to let us mine the Trinium we need for all the stuff the eggheads back at the SGC and Area 51 want it for.” Jack put his sunglasses back on. “Quick recon only. We go in, we take a look at these things, get out and then report back to the SGC and Hammond.”

Daniel sighed, even though no one noticed it. He had the horrible feeling that things simply weren't going to be that easy. He gripped the stake tighter, and suddenly wished he had asked Sister Agata if he could borrow one of those Scythe symbols...

**April 25th, 2002  
Trinium Mine, P5X-194**

Daniel felt his heart pounding in his chest as they walked into the mine. He was more than a little surprised – after this long with SG-1, he'd gotten...used to the fighting, as much as he wished he didn't have to. He'd gone from being effectively useless with a gun to being one of the best shots among the civilian contingent of the SGC – not the best, but definitely up there. 

But this situation – he knew they didn't have much to work with. Jackson didn't doubt they could get away if they turned around and ran for it – the sun was still high in the sky, and as long as they didn't go too far in...

Despite himself, he gulped. When he'd helped Wesley and his friends fight those demons, he'd not been this...nervous? Concerned? But then – he'd been fighting enemies he knew a gun could hurt. And he'd had people who fought demons for a living at his back. The rest of SG-1 hadn't even seen a vampire in action. Daniel hadn't either, really...

He forced those thoughts out of his brain. This wasn't the time. 

“Teal'c, keep the staff ready.” Jack said. “If Jaresh is so sure that it'll work, then we have something that'll be combat-effective, no matter what.”

Teal'c nodded. 

“So, anyone want to take bets on what these things will actually turn out to be?” Jack laughed and then took off his sunglasses. He turned on the flashlight at the top of his P-90, and Sam did the same with her own gun. Daniel took his flashlight out, holding it crossed with his other hand, which held his pistol. He had the stake in one of the front pockets of his BDUs.

Slowly, carefully, they entered into the tunnel, keeping their eyes and ears open, not talking, and avoiding making too much sound.

The tunnel was old, and worn, but it still showed the signs of its origins as something built by the Goa'uld – script in the parasites' language lined the walls. Commands to work, to not shirk in the duty to their god to unearth the metal within these mines, mostly, from the snatches Daniel caught in their lights as they walked.

It took roughly three minutes to get far enough in that the sunlight was well behind them. And not much farther in, the tunnel started to branch out, all going downward, but several tunnels coming out from a central chamber. It was large enough to handle traffic from all the tunnels, down and up. SG-1 drew up short, looking over the tunnel – and the footprints, among other things, made it clear that-

Decay. Rotting bodies. Daniel had smelled it from further away – from several directions...all faint, but...

_Do they keep their kills down here...or do Vampires naturally smell like that..._

Angel hadn't – but then, he was living _within_ L.A.'s human society, not...out here, where everyone knew they were. The vampires here had no incentive to be clean, and for all he knew, they _liked_ the smell of dead bodies.

The rest of the team seemed just as disgusted, but no one said anything.

Then they heard it – angry snarls...Jackson saw the glowing yellow eyes in the darkness. Then – they were moving.

Daniel wasn't sure who fired first – but it didn't really matter. The vampires lunged towards them, the distortions on their faces just like the ones on Angel's face when he 'vamped out'. No one could mistake the hostility, the hunger in those eyes. The guns roared within the confines of the mine, even Daniel himself was firing out of ingrained habit – and true, the vampires actually recoiled for a moment...but even full of bullet holes, none but the ones that Teal'c hit with his staff weapon actually fell. They started burning, then...

A strange sort of roaring sound, and the bodies exploded into dust.

SG-1 didn't have time to be shocked – Sam didn't even have time for denial, when the vampires charged at them again. 

“Fall back! NOW!!” Jack shouted over the sounds of bursts of P-90s, Daniel's pistol, Teal'c staff weapon. The vampires were being slowed down thanks to being filled with lead, but there were a lot more than four of them, and the staff weapon just wasn't firing quickly enough...

The vampires kept coming – and then one of them managed to grab Sam, as SG-1 retreated as quickly as they could. 

It grabbed her and pulled her close. Daniel witnessed it in horror as its fangs sank into her neck – but it only had a moment to start sucking. 

Because Carter, on pure reflex, kicked at the vampire, managing to get it off her for the briefest of moments. But there were still two holes in the side of her neck. Pure adrenaline keeping her up, Sam shot the vampire more, and Jack shoved her behind him, taking one hand off his P-90 long enough to grab and pull out the stake Agata had given him. He didn't even need to drive it home – one of the undead lunged at the Air Force Colonel, and it only took a last second movement of the pointy stick to make the overconfident vampire explode into ashes.

“O'Neill!” Teal'c warned. Jack dropped his head, reading the specifics in Teal'c's tone, and Daniel grabbed Sam's arm, pulling her back. He could see his teammate already had her hand clamped to her neck, trying to keep from bleeding out...

The staff weapon was not designed to be fired quickly on a repeat basis – but if someone was desperate, or didn't care about the weapon's lifespan shortening considerably, you _could_ fire it quickly enough that way. Daniel remembered how Bra'tac had used it when they were fleeing Chulak the second time, firing hurriedly to create an almost curtain of flame between himself and the enemy Jaffa.

Teal'c used it now the same way, firing at the ceiling, letting the fire drop down onto the vampires, moving backwards – all four of them moving backwards – as he fought to save their lives.

It worked – or at least, it seemed to work long enough, though Daniel wasn't sure how – long enough anyway for them to get to the entrance of the cave, and out into the sunlight. 

The pursuing vampires drew up short, snarling and angry, but still held back by the barrier of the sunlight. And then they fell back as Teal'c and Jack continued to fire their weapons at them.

Daniel was already working on trying to bandage Sam's bleeding neck. “Jack!” He called out as the vampires fled back into the depths of the mine. _Damn it, damn it, damn it! I **should have known** this would happen!_

“We need to get her back to the SGC, right now!” Daniel then said, managing to sound more calm than he felt. “I need help here,” he added, keeping one hand on the gauze he was pressing down on Sam's neck.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Angel the Series or Stargate SG-1. No money is being made off of this. Whatever you don't recognize from either show is mine, however (e.g. Tellis, Jaresh, Agata, etc.)

Thanks to Starway Man, my beta-reader

I agree that one could argue that these characters might be too quickly accepting of what they're hearing, but considering just how much crazy stuff the SGC deals with on a regular basis, and the fact that none of these characters are the kind to be willfully blind to the evidence right in front of them? I think it's feasible that the members of SG-1 would believe the evidence from their own eyes and ears first, and then think about how crazy it all is. Plus, they're getting all this thrown at them in practically no time at all – there's no opportunity for denial, or the 'holy shit, this is for real?!' kind of reaction, though the latter is definitely coming.

Old Friends: A New Direction

By Alkeni

Chapter 3

**April 25th, 2002  
**  
Infirmary, Stargate Command

Daniel looked at Sam's sleeping form within the infirmary bed, taking note of the IV in her arm. The rest of SG-1 was also there – it had been a somewhat rushed and frantic effort, getting her back here through the Stargate. Teal'c had carried her, his enhanced endurance and strength making it possible for him, with a great deal of exertion of course, to get to the gate faster than either of his teammates could, even carrying her.

First Teal'c had gone through with Sam...then Jack and Daniel himself had followed, with O'Neill shouting "MEDIC!!" as soon as they'd stepped through the event horizon of the wormhole.

Stopping the blood loss hadn't taken that much effort, but after she had been stabilized – Janet had given Sam a sedative, even though the blonde woman already been in shock from her injuries. 

But with her blood loss stopped and blood transfusion working to replace what she'd lost – now, Sam just needed time to recover.

“She should be fine, this time tomorrow.” Janet told the three waiting members of SG-1. “Mostly, she just needs rest, and a chance to replenish her fluids and let the antibiotics we gave her do their job.” She looked at the male trio intently, “So. What happened on P5X-194?”

“Vampires.” Teal'c answered.

Janet did a double-take. “Vampires? Teal'c, what are you-”

“They were all but unharmed by Tau'ri bullets, drank human blood and turned into dust after being hit by my staff weapon, or a wooden stake was driven into their hearts.” Teal'c interrupted her, his face looking extra-impassive, “If there is a better term than that which applies, JanetFraiser, then I am ignorant of what it would be.”

“Yeah, well, whatever the hell they were, they-” Jack then looked away, shaking his head, “Oh, for cryin' out loud. Yeah, guess I gotta go with T on this one. 'Vampire' works better than anything else I can think of, right now.”

Janet looked at Sam, then back to the rest of SG-1. “Vampire?” 

“Vampire.” Jack nodded once. 

The M.D. shook her head. “I seriously can't believe I'm actually asking this, but if you're not making any of this up, did she- did Sam drink any of the vampire's- I mean, I didn't see any blood in her mouth, but I-” 

“It didn't get a chance to do that.” Jack interrupted, shaking his head. “She managed to kick it away before it could try anything like that.”

“It wouldn't have mattered anyway, I don't think.” Daniel spoke up for the first time since they'd arrived back on Earth. The rest of the group looked at him, and Jackson added, “I mean, if these things are the origin for the Vampire myth, then we can extrapolate certain things about them from the oldest and most scholarly meaningful stories. And one thing all of them agree on is that a person can only be turned into a vampire – sired, I believe is the technical term – is if they've had all their blood drained, and been fed the blood of a vampire. One out of two isn't enough.”

“What else do you know?” O'Neill demanded simply.

“Not much – seriously, Jack, I've never really studied the myths and legends concerning vampires in any detail.” Daniel told him. 

“Then you should start now. Big time.” Jack told him, and Daniel nodded. “And I for one am thinking heavy-duty flamethrowers.”

“You want to go back to that mine?!” Daniel couldn't control himself. “After what just happened?”

“'Want' has got nothing to do with it. C'mon, Daniel, do you really think a little thing like this is going to stop us from going back to P5X-194? We've got a planet with viable Trinium deposits and locals willing to let us mine it. The Joint Chiefs will put all kinds of pressure on the SGC to exploit it.” Jack rubbed his forehead, “Sure, I totally screwed up; made the call for us to go in and take a look. Even though Jaresh warned us against it, I thought we could handle a quick in and out-”

“Well, all three of us did agree with you on that.” Daniel interrupted, pointing out the obvious.

“And SamanthaCarter did express her belief that your projectile weaponry would be effective against the enemy.” Teal'c commented. “While in hindsight this was incorrect, at the time – we could not have known otherwise.”

“Whatever. I still made a bad judgment call, could have gotten all of us killed.” Jack sighed. Daniel knew his friend would be beating himself up over this for a while – not too much, but...enough.

 _Not as much as me, though._ Not for the first time, Daniel figured he should have told the rest of SG-1 the truth – but...even now, he didn't doubt that they just wouldn't have believed him. He hadn't been willing to believe it himself, after all. Some of the horror stories about vampires that Wesley had shared with him, some of the factual accounts that he'd read in Wesley's books...hell, everything that he'd found out through some extracurricular research of his own...

_I didn't want to believe that we'd come up against those things in our line of work. It's as simple as that. Damn it all to hell._

He needed to talk to General Hammond – they needed to get Wesley on board to help deal with this 'situation'. Daniel didn't doubt that compared to his old friend, he himself knew next to nothing about the supernatural – so the SGC needed the British man's help. Maybe even that of his entire team.

“I'm going to, uh, to go back to my office. See if I can figure out what I need to figure out more about – um, what sources I can consult for details on vampires and the original myths.” Daniel looked at Teal'c, “So, ah...no Jaffa legends about these things? Even from those Jaffa who used to serve Ra, while he ruled on Earth?”

“None that I have ever heard.” Teal'c confirmed, shaking his head. 

Daniel nodded. “Alright.” 

“Debriefing with Hammond in an hour, Daniel.” Jack told him, and Jackson nodded again before hurrying away.

**April 25th, 2002  
General Hammond's Office, Stargate Command**

The portly, balding Texan looked up, frowning at the unexpected intrusion. “Dr. Jackson. The debriefing isn't for another hour-”

“Vampires.” Daniel interrupted, even before the door was closed. “That's what attacked us, and put Sam in the infirmary.”

During the frantic rush to get Sam to medical care, all that SG-1 had told the C.O. of the outfit was that they'd been attacked – and then SG-3 had had the supremely inconvenient timing to dial in hot right after they were out of the Gate room, distracting Hammond completely.

“Vampires?” George tensed, “Offworld? Dr. Jackson, how-”

“I know, I know, but if you think about it – well, it, it makes sense.” Daniel started to explain, “I just-” He took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just – I just never thought of it. But – there's no reason to believe that a random vampire or two couldn't have been picked up with the rest of the human herd, when the Goa'uld transplanted entire populations to other worlds. I _should_ have thought of it before now, I know, but – I didn't.”

“I see. Well, you should know that the Joint Chiefs _did_ ask me about that possibility, back when I was briefed about the Initiative. In fact, I think it was one of the main reasons I was briefed at all.” Hammond told him, “I said we had no evidence of anything like that. And we haven't, until now.”

“Well, now we do. And I may know a few things concerning the occult, but I'm the first to admit I'm no expert on the supernatural. General, obviously, we need to get Wesley in on this.”

“Wesley Wyndam-Pryce?” Daniel nodded, as George added, “Dr. Jackson...given his involvement with and experience with such things, I can understand why you're saying that. The N.I.D. is still neck-deep in funding the U.S. military's demon-hunting teams, and I don't want them anywhere near this command if I can possibly help it. But why in God's name should we bother? It'd be much simpler just to lock the planet's coordinates out and-”

“Jack will explain it in detail during the debriefing, but – in a nutshell? This planet has Trinium, General.” Daniel interrupted. 

Hammond sat back in his chair. He didn't need Jackson to explain what that meant – the value of that metal, the constant demand for it from those in the know. If they could finally get a ready supply of the stuff...

 _I'd imagine this will make it easier for me to demand extra funding, next time the SGC's budget comes up..._ George thought to himself, without even the faintest hint of a smile. He knew that Daniel didn't know the details of just how all that worked, but the Texan general had made comments about Stargate Command's budget before, when they'd scored a success – like new technology and resources.

“I see. And yes, that changes things.” Hammond said after a few moments. “All right. I'll have to make a few calls, maybe get the President's approval since we're not dealing with a U.S. citizen being told the Big Secret, but – I think Mr. Wyndam-Pryce can be given security clearance to know exactly what it is we do here. And...I think we're going to need something else.”

“What?” Daniel asked.

“Footage from the Initiative.” Hammond said, frowning, “If I can convince the Joint Chiefs to let me tell the SGC – or at least some people, at first. I think once they hear what the stakes are regarding P5X-194 and its Trinium supply, it'll be enough to justify something like that. Besides, we now have eyewitness proof of vampires on other worlds. It stands to reason there might be more, elsewhere in the galaxy.”

“Unfortunately, yeah. My thinking exactly.” Daniel nodded. “I mean, if the undead really are a hazard of interstellar travel – are we going to have to go through the Gate with holy water and wooden stakes, from now on?” He shook his head, understanding why – but wrapping his head around it...

“I'd rather that than the alternative.” Hammond told him, before motioning the linguist to leave the room and getting back to work.

**April 25th, 2002  
Briefing Room, Stargate Command**

“And you're positive that this metal you saw was Trinium?” Hammond asked, after Jack told the General what had happened on P5X-194.

“Sam was pretty sure, even from just a quick look, and the Goa'uld don't have their slaves dig just any old metal outta the ground.” Jack replied, shrugging slightly. “But those _things_ that were present in the mine – Sir, I'd like to request that we send a company of SG teams in with military-grade flamethrowers. If a staff weapon could handle them, then – well, simply burning them out of there is the best option right now, I'd say.”

“Uh, Jack? Sorry, but it sorta stands to reason – and fits with what Jaresh and Agata told us - that there would be more of the...enemy...than just those we encountered within that particular mine. Even if they're scattered all over the planet, that doesn't mean they're not there,” Daniel pointed out. “And if we're going to establish a permanent presence on P5X-194 to mine its Trinium, well, then we're going to have to develop both strategy and tactics to deal with the, uh, threat potential.” _Which is why we need Wesley._

“Sure, but that can come later. I'd say the immediate objective to secure control of that mine-” Jack started to say. 

“Colonel O'Neill, I'm afraid it's a little more complicated than that.” Hammond told him, interrupting. “You see, what you and your team fought weren't just creatures that inspired the vampire myth. They were actual vampires.”

“Sir?” Jack looked General Hammond, as if the man had sprouted a second head. 

“Yes, well. This is all classified, you understand, but – four years ago, the N.I.D. and certain elements of the Army and the Marines set up a secret black-ops outfit codenamed Project Lilac, or 'The Initiative,' underneath the town of Sunnydale, California.”

“Never heard of the town or the project, sir.” Jack told him, still looking at him weirdly. Teal'c, by comparison, was just staring at Hammond with an upraised eyebrow, which was an excellent indicator of his level of interest in the conversation.

“I am also unaware of this township located elsewhere on your world.” the Jaffa said calmly.

“Well, you should all consider yourselves lucky you haven't heard of Sunnydale, or ever gone there.” Hammond told them. “The Initiative project was set up under a sealed Presidential order to capture and study what were called 'Hostile Sub-Terrestrials' – creatures that otherwise defied classification – in order to determine whether they could be used to further this country's military agenda, and how to kill them, more generally.” The latter point seemed almost to be an afterthought.

“WHAT?!” Daniel almost exploded in disbelief.

“Creatures, sir?” Jack asked, ignoring his teammate. 

“Vampires and demons, Colonel.” Hammond told him, his face completely straight. He took a moment to press a button on a small remote, and the projector turned on after the lights dimmed. “After roughly two years of operation, the Initiative was shut down, with almost 85% of the personnel stationed there lost. What you're about to see is video footage taken from just before the official end of the project.”

The video began to play, and even Daniel was horrified by what he saw next – soldiers, civilians, running and fighting...creatures, some ridiculous looking, some like things out of nightmares...the footage was roughly three minutes long, but at least twelve people died during that short span of time.

“Holy mother of-” Jack started to say when the footage abruptly ended, the image frozen on what was unmistakably the same kind of creature they'd faced on P5X-194. He looked at General Hammond, “Permission to speak freely sir?” Hammond nodded. “Okay then. Not to be blunt, but what the hell happened? If these things really are on Earth – how did even the N.I.D. screw up that bad? How many of these things- no, first off, what the hell are they? I mean, really. Because that whole malarkey about vampires and demons can't possibly be for real!”

“You're wrong.” Hammond shook his head. “Such things do exist, Colonel. Especially the undead. You can go into denial about it all you want, that doesn't change the fact that the vampires really are out there – and have been for as long as human beings have walked the Earth, according to my information.”

Jack shook his head slowly, still trying to deal with his entire world-view being shattered as Hammond added, “As for what they are, biologically speaking – well, I have no idea. I'm sure the Initiative's scientists had theories, but quite frankly, it doesn't matter. They may not be Demons in the religious sense, but the term certainly works. As you yourself said, for all practical purposes? 'Vampire' describes these things well enough.” He gestured to the frozen image on the projector.

“GeneralHammond, these creatures are powerful and dangerous enemies – threats. Is not your government combating them?” Teal'c asked carefully.

“Yes, or at least somewhat. I mean nothing public, obviously. And while the Initiative failed, the U.S. military still retains a number of teams dedicated to fighting these things, and there are other organizations – both national and international – involved as well. From what I was told, such creatures exist all over the world, but Sunnydale has a disproportionately high number of them.” Hammond told his audience.

“But how the hell do we – no, wait, how does the public not know about these things? If they're really-” Jack abruptly shut himself up, not bothering to finish the sentence. The answer was painfully obvious. _Who the hell would **want** to believe that these things really exist?_

Besides, if it all did come out – there would be world-wide panic, not mention riots in the streets. O'Neill had been in plenty of places throughout the world in the service of his country; he could easily imagine the incredible turmoil human society would undergo, once everyone knew that the monsters really were out there. _We're talking lynch mobs, with burning torches and pitchforks all over again..._

“All right. Assuming I haven't completely lost my mind? Are we going to have one of these...demon-fighting teams-” Jack still looked and sounded like he couldn't believe that he was saying, but soldiered on anyway, “come and deal with these things? Or show us how?”

“The Joint Chiefs would rather that _not_ be the case.” Hammond told him. “The N.I.D. remains the official government liaison to those teams, and given all their problems with infiltration by rogue elements, none of the demon-fighting squads are aware of the SGC. You, as well as many other personnel on this base will be read into parts of it, as you already have now, but the President wants to keep the SGC and those operations as separate as possible. There are files on their way from the Pentagon for what information SGC personnel have been cleared for.” 

Jack looked quizzical for a moment, then the penny dropped, “Ah. Gotcha. You think there might be more of these things on other planets, apart from P5X-194.”

“That remains to be confirmed, of course. But I'd rather our people be prepared. We've barely scratched the surface of the Gate system, and the Goa'uld planted people from all over Earth throughout human history on these worlds. It stands to reason P5X-194 isn't the only planet infested with vampires.” Hammond looked distinctly unhappy at the concept.

Daniel looked carefully at Jack – Teal'c, as usual, was unreadable – and figured that all things considered, O'Neill didn't seem to be taking this too badly. Well, but they'd been going through the Stargate for over five years, now – he'd gotten used to weird shit, and it was kinda hard to stay in denial-mode for long after everything they'd encountered before now. Plus after what he'd seen in the mine. 

“Given that we won't be bringing in one of those teams, we must therefore begin pursuing other options for expert advice on this subject.” Hammond concluded. “Doctor Jackson?” The General looked at Daniel, who sucked in a deep breath after seeing both Jack and Teal'c gaze at him curiously, then he started.

“Yeah, uh, guys...remember how I mentioned that I went to L.A. to visit an old friend named Wesley, while you two were staying at Jack's place in Minnesota?” Daniel asked. Both the human and the Jaffa nodded. “Well, while I was there, I found out what he actually does for a living.”

Jack quickly connected the dots, “You mean...?” Daniel nodded, once.

“So you _knew_? Back on P5X-194, you knew these things were real, you knew about the vampires _before_ hand, even before we went into that mine – and you didn't tell us?!” Jack didn't often get angry with Daniel – or anyone on his team – but sometimes he did. And this was one of those times. “For crying out loud, Daniel, Carter could have _died_!”

“I know that! You think I don't know that? But put yourself in _my_ shoes for a second, Jack! I mean, what exactly was I supposed to do? Tell you the truth? If I did, would you actually have believed me? Come on, without proof none of you would have believed something like that, and you know it! I mean, I could hardly believe that they'd be there on another world, myself!” Daniel shot back. 

Before he could defend himself more – not that there was much he could stand on, really – and before Jack could say anything else, Hammond interrupted.

“Colonel O'Neill, Doctor Jackson, this is neither the time nor the place.” 

Jack nodded slowly, but he looked hard at Daniel, “We'll finish this conversation later, space monkey.” 

Daniel just nodded. This is what he'd been afraid of – not that Jack didn't have a point. He probably should have said something, come up with something to say. Tried to make them believe him...even if Jackson was still sure such efforts would have been utterly futile, and resulted in nothing but his teammates questioning his sanity and even his usefulness in the field.

“Doctor Jackson, continue.” Hammond told the archaeologist.

“Wesley,” Daniel started again, “He used to be part of an organization called the Watchers' Council. I don't know that much about them, but they've been around for at least a thousand years, and are probably the world's greatest experts on vampires and demons. And while Wes isn't with this Council anymore, he still works as an independent demon-fighter in Los Angeles, with other people in the know.”

Jackson added, “Before I found out what he did for a living, helping keep that city safe as possible for its human inhabitants, I was hoping I could recruit him for the SGC. I mean, given that he's just as good as I am with ancient languages – actually better in some, to be honest with you – but now we need him, and maybe his entire group, to come here and help us figure out what to do about the vampires on P5X-194.”

“I talked to the President, and he's given permission to have Mr. Wyndam-Pryce and his compatriots be granted security clearance and brought here to help us, assuming they prove amenable to the idea and sign the standard non-disclosure agreements.” Hammond told them. “The only question is if all of SG-1 should go bring them in, or just Dr. Jackson.”

“I don't think there'd be a problem with all of us coming. And... once Sam recovers...” Daniel's voice trailed off for a moment, then continued, “Well, I think she'd be helpful in explaining some parts of what we do for a living – one of the people that works with Wesley is some kind of physics genius, so if Sam convinced her the science was right, if we run into any disbelief regarding the Stargate, then the rest of them could be convinced by her.”

“And if that doesn't work, we could always just show them Junior.” Jack pointed out cynically. Showing a live Goa'uld had been used a few times with newly inducted members of the Big Secret – Teal'c was never enthused about it, but nor had he expressed any offense to the idea. He simply took it in stride, much like he did everything else.

“If nothing else is sufficient to convince these people of the truth, so be it.” Teal'c agreed.

“All right. Then once Major Carter has recovered, SG-1 will leave for Los Angeles immediately.” Hammond told them.

**April 26th, 2002  
Infirmary, Stargate Command**

“Sam. I'm so sorry. I should have warned-” Daniel started to say to the recovered Major, who was sitting up in the infirmary bed. Janet wanted to run a few quick tests before she released Sam back to active duty, but she'd given the rest of SG-1 the chance to talk to her first – and brief her on what really had happened.

“No. It's alright, Daniel.” Sam told him, shaking her head. “I mean, if I hadn't seen...if that thing hadn't actually bitten me...” Unconsciously, Sam's hand went up to the bandage on her neck, “I just wouldn't have believed you, even with this video file from the Pentagon.” She shook her head again. “Whatever these things are, and I'm willing to call them 'vampires' right now as much as anything else – well, there's a rational scientific explanation for them out there somewhere. There's _got_ to be. But they- I was wrong back on P5X-194, insisting that guns would work against them when they obviously didn't. And if I was wrong about that, then I'd have been wrong about...if you'd tried to tell me we really were going up against actual vampires, I simply wouldn't have believed you.”

She shook her head again, “To be honest, I'd much rather _not_ believe everything else you've told us. Vampires existing all over the world? And they always have done?” She took a breath. “I can't say I'm exactly thrilled to know something like that.”

“Yeah, well, personally? I'm not sure I want to go outside anymore without a stake or a cross, myself.” Jack admitted. Sam laughed a little at that.

“Indeed. I have been reading many of the stories regarding these creatures since yesterday, and such weaponry would appear both necessary and sufficient.” Teal'c spoke up, staring at his Tau'ri companions carefully. 

“From what Wesley told me, demons and vampires tend to avoid the military of most countries, especially powerful ones like the U.S.” Daniel told them reassuringly. “Given the Air Force presence here, that'd mean Colorado Springs is more or less safe for its human population. I guess there might be some demons here, probably living underground or in the less populated parts of town, but none of the violent kind.”

“Non-violent demons?” Jack looked over at Daniel, “Pentagon file didn't say anything about that.”

“Well, apparently they don't draw attention to themselves for fear of being targeted, which would make sense.” Daniel said, shrugging, “I met a few in L.A. while I was there, actually. They may or may not be able to blend into human society, but there are demons who are no more interested in slaughter or destruction than the average person on the street. 'Demon' is actually a rather broad and imprecise classification, technically speaking.”

“How many kinds of demons, then?” Sam asked, her interest piqued now that the denial phase was over and done with.

“According to Wesley, over thirty thousand, depending on who's counting and what counts as distinct kind of demon.” Daniel answered. “He gave me a specific number, I can't remember if off the top of my head though.”

“Thirty thousand, versus...what,” Jack looked in the Pentagon file, “Six-hundred and fifty-four identified kinds of 'HST'?”

“Yeah. Still, with any luck, vampires were all that got taken to other worlds.” Daniel said hopefully. “The Goa'uld would have screened their future slaves carefully enough to make that a likely probability, anyway.” 

“Yeah, well, I'll believe that when we don't run into any demons on another world, ever.” Jack replied, half-amused, half-grimly serious.

“DanielJackson presents a logical argument, O'Neill. It does seem unlikely that such demons would be swept up with humans, unless they were very skilled at appearing human.” Teal'c pointed out. “Indeed, the presence of demons and vampires on Earth might be one of the reasons why humans were relocated to so many other worlds, not just ones with resources of use to the Goa'uld. We should ask the Asgard of their opinion on the subject, when next the occasion arises.”

“Huh, yeah...that makes sense.” Daniel agreed, his mind working the possibility. “And it could also explain why you've never heard any legends or stories about the undead, Teal'c – assuming there are vampires elsewhere than P5X-194, anyway. The Goa'uld would have every incentive to prevent such stories circulating – demons and the walking dead aren't exactly conducive to their claims of divinity.”

“Indeed,” Teal'c inclined his head slightly in agreement. “Dead false gods, slain at the hands of these creatures, would be something to be avoided in their view.” 

“So, do you think your friend will be willing to come and help us out, even if it's just to make suggestions about how to best protect ourselves from this sort of thing?” Sam asked. “It sounds like he has his hands full in L.A.”

Daniel shrugged, “Well, I don't think Wesley would be willing to leave L.A. permanently, or join the SGC. But I think he'd be willing to help us, once we tell him about the Goa'uld. From his perspective, it would somewhat defeat the purpose of saving people from demons and vampires, only to see the world fall to evil alien invaders. Besides, I'm sure he'd be fascinated by it all. No way he'd turn down the opportunity to see vampires on another planet in action...” 

Daniel sighed, seeing Dr. Fraiser waiting not too far off, watching them sternly. “Looks like Janet wants to do those tests. I'll go call Wesley – we shouldn't drop in on him and his people completely unannounced. Especially not if all four of us are coming.”

**April 26th, 2002  
Daniel's Office, Stargate Command**

Daniel debated with himself on calling Wesley's apartment first, but then thought better of it. His old friend was too much of a workaholic to not be at his office within the Hyperion hotel during the afternoon.

The phone rang twice, and then he heard a Texan-accented female voice on the other end. “Angel Investigations.” Fred said somewhat hurriedly. “How can we help you?” 

“Hello – Fred, isn't it? This is Daniel Jackson, Wesley's friend. Could I speak with him? Is he in?” the linguist asked politely.

Daniel heard a sharp intake of breath, then, “Dr. Jackson? We weren't, I mean I wasn't expecting...but, uh, no. Wesley- Wesley doesn't work here anymore.”

“Doesn't work – what? But he's the boss, isn't he? What happened? Is he okay?” Daniel's mind started racing – damn it, he should have called sooner. Something had happened, Wesley was hurt – or...what happened? He heard faint voices on the other end of the line, and then:

“I guess, well...more or less. And Wesley should be at his apar-” Fred started to say, before the background voices got louder, and Daniel was pretty sure Angel's was one of them. Fred then said hurriedly, “I have to go. Uh, Dr. Jackson? Don't – don't come to the office looking for him. Because Wesley won't be here. Ever again.” 

Then all Daniel could hear was the dial tone. Fred had hung up, without even saying goodbye.

_What the hell is going on over there in Los Angeles?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Angel the Series and Stargate SG-1 are not, in any sense of the word, mine. This fic is made by a fan for other fans, purely for the purposes of enjoyment. No money is being made off of this story.

Thanks to Starway Man, my beta-reader

Old Friends: A New Direction

By Alkeni

Chapter 4

**April 26th, 2002  
Sam's Lab, Stargate Command**

“No one at the Hyperion is picking up any longer,” Daniel told Sam worriedly, “And he's not picking up at his apartment.” Daniel turned away and passed a hand down over his face a moment. “I mean, I knew Wesley was late with sending a letter, but he's been like that before – hell, I left him hanging for a year when I was living on Abydos. Damn it, I should have called sooner!”

“If there's any official record on what's happened to him, I'll find it.” Major Carter told him absently, semi-hunched over her keyboard. “If he was dead...well, don't you think that friend of his, this 'Fred' person, would have told you?”

Daniel nodded, “Probably. The way she told me not to come looking for him at all, not there at the office – well, the only conclusion I can reach is that they had some kind of falling out. But in that line of work?” _And especially given that Angel's a vampire..._

“I can't find any official death certificate on any Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, anywhere in the country.” Sam told him, running her search program. “Wait – there's something...” She grimaced, “Hospitalization. Los Angeles, Drew Medical Center.”

“What- what happened?”

“Someone slit his throat – actually slit his throat!” Sam said in amazement, before she saw the look on Daniel's face. “Mr. Pryce survived it, Daniel, somehow – you can relax. The hospital records don't make it sound like it's a vampire bite they didn't know what to make of, though. Clear-cut knife wound across his throat. He signed himself out, AMA...ah, four days ago.” Sam said, looking at her computer. “If he's still in L.A., he should be at his apartment, like that Fred person said. But with that kind of injury – he may not be able to talk. Not right now...maybe not ever.”

“God. What the hell happened? Is there any sort of police report?” Daniel demanded.

Sam's fingers flew over the keyboard a moment, “No. Nothing, according to the L.A.P.D.'s database. No mention of who did it, or any subsequent attempted murder investigation. Not that I can find, anyway.”

“Then that means – well, it's related to his work, then.” Daniel took a breath. “I'm guessing, this...makes things more complicated.”

“More complicated or not, he's still our best bet, Daniel.” Sam pointed out. “And the fact that he's not working with his friends anymore – well, that actually might make him more receptive to our request for help. After the bills start piling up, medical and otherwise...I mean, would _you_ have taken up Catherine Langford's offer with such vague information, if you'd had any prospects left?”

Daniel sighed, “Probably not.” Not that he liked the idea of taking advantage of whatever misfortune had befallen his old friend, but Sam did raise an undeniable point. From personal experience, Dr. Jackson knew that once you hit rock bottom... 

_They're my friends, even family, to a degree._

Wesley's words echoed through Daniel's mind. Losing his friends, his family...

When Wesley had been fired from the IWC, he'd been...devastated. Daniel had picked up that much from his letters back then. His friend had only gotten better once he'd joined Angel Investigations, working for the man Daniel now knew to be a Vampire with a Soul. 

Now...

“I suppose you're right.” Daniel conceded, “from a certain...cold-blooded perspective, it does makes our job a lot easier.”

**April 27th, 2002  
USAF Plane over Nevada**

“Okay Daniel, so, what's the deal with this Wesley guy, and this 'Watcher's Council'?” Jack asked carefully.

“Actually, I think it's best if I take those questions in reverse order. Now, I don't know all the details, so bear with me.” Daniel prefaced, “But in short, the Council exists as a clandestine organization – a secret society based in England, actually – that studies demons and vampires, cataloging information on vulnerabilities, abilities, known behaviors, and so on. They also kill demons and vampires when and where they can, but the primary focus of the Council has always been the Slayer.” 

Daniel wasn't looking forward to the rest of his team finding out about the Chosen crowd, but Wesley would probably bring it up anyway. Better to get it over with now. O'Neill's reaction in particular- 

“The Slayer?” Jack raised an eyebrow, “Bein' a little dramatic, there, aren't you?”

“Maybe. The full term is 'the Vampire Slayer'. The standard line about all this which I got from Wesley goes something like, uh: 'Into each generation, a Slayer is born. The one girl with the strength and skill to stand up to the demons, the vampires and the forces of darkness.'” Daniel shook his head carefully, “He didn't talk about the Slayer much – I could tell it was a sore subject for him – but basically, the Slayer has greatly enhanced strength, speed, senses, healing, everything. Enough to take on a vampire – or even several at once, apparently – and come out on top. Her 'job' is battle all the evil things that go bump in the night. When one dies, another is 'called' somewhere else on the planet. I don't know details regarding that, but apparently there's always a Slayer in the world, somewhere or other.”

Daniel sighed, not wanting to say the next part but forcing himself to do so. “The Council's primary duty, in its own mind at least, is locating, training and guiding each Slayer. Preparing each girl for their sacred duty, helping them find out more about the demons and vampires they come up against, how to kill them, how to avoid being killed by them.”

Sam looked at him suspiciously, “Hang on. When you say girl-” 

Daniel interrupted her with a nod. “A female teenager. According to Wesley, the Slayer is most often called – activated, if you will – between the ages of fifteen and seventeen.” In a slightly quieter voice, he added, “Sometimes younger, sometimes older.”

“You're kiddin' me, right? Daniel, are you _seriously_ telling me that the people your 'friend' used to work for constantly send teenage _girls_ up against things like what we faced in that mine? Night after night?” Jack demanded, “What kind of sick bastards are they? What kind of sick bastard is _he_?”

“No, Jack, it's not that simple.” Daniel protested, defensive of his friend. “I mean, according to what I've heard, the Council didn't create the Slayer. The magic, o-or whatever it is that makes the Slayer essence pass from one chosen girl to another, it predates the Council by at least several thousand years. In fact, Wesley told me he suspected that it predated human civilization entirely, though he could hardly be sure about that. And as for forcing them to fight that sort of battle against odds like that – well, yeah, it sucks. But once the poor girl in question gets drafted for the job by whoever or whatever, uh...Wesley said that it's been shown time and time again that the vampires and demons are going to go after the Slayer anyway, even if she personally doesn't seek them out. Which makes an ugly sort of sense, I suppose, I mean if you think about it – the one human that's physically a challenge to them? At least one of the vampires is going to come looking for trouble...”

Daniel knew he was all but parroting Wesley's defense when he himself had had a similar reaction to the concept of the Slayer, but Wesley's arguments had a point, and...well, they were the only arguments he had.

“Look, I personally think the entire set-up is completely reprehensible, but it is what it is. And apparently, there's nothing anyone can do to change it. The Council just tries to make sure each Slayer is as effective as possible against vampires and demons, for as long as possible.” 

Daniel sighed, “I don't know anything more about the Slayer. Like I said, he didn't want to talk about it and I didn't push.”

“Why didn't he want to talk about it?” Jack asked, and Daniel could tell he wasn't letting the topic go just yet. The man then made a mental note to warn Wesley that O'Neill probably didn't like him much right now, before focusing back on the question.

“I don't know. I suspect...well, I think it had something to do with why he split from the Council, all those years ago.” Daniel told him, “Wesley spent most of his life preparing and training himself to be part of the organization – so it must have been hard for him, not being part of it anymore. Imagine how you'd feel, Jack, if someone kicked you out of the Air Force, just like that...”

“If this Slayer is as powerful as you say, the best defense against vampires and demons, then perhaps we should locate her and have her help us on P5X-194.” Teal'c suggested, ignoring the annoyed look on Jack's face.

“And rob Earth of its only Slayer?” Sam pointed out, “If there really is only one at a time, I'm thinking she should be here. Has to be here, in fact.” She grimaced, “As disgusting as it is to contemplate that anyone that young is actually forced into constantly fighting...those things.”

“Besides, I'm not interested in recruiting child soldiers.” Jack all but spat out.

“You both make sound arguments.” Teal'c agreed after a moment, inclining his head slightly but with an extra-impassive look on his face. 

**April 27th, 2002  
Wesley's Apartment, Los Angeles**

Daniel approached the door to Wesley's apartment, wondering just what was going to happen – what was his old friend's state of mind going to be?

A small part of him wondered if Wesley would even be alive...

No. Definitely 'no' to that idea. Daniel didn't believe that even if he had broken away from his friends, his family in all but blood – from what Wesley had said, and what Daniel had picked up...

Wesley wasn't suicidal. But still...Daniel couldn't help but worry.

He'd convinced the rest of SG-1 to wait at the hotel they'd taken rooms at, at least for this first visit. If something had happened...

Daniel didn't want to throw the entire team at him – didn't want to let Jack or Sam start accusing Wesley of criminal misconduct over the whole Slayer issue. Daniel wasn't surprised that Teal'c had taken it with such equanimity, though. Among the Jaffa, fifteen wasn't old enough yet to go out and fight in the service of the Goa'uld. But after receiving their prim'ta, such teenagers had already been trained for combat for several years, and were expected to be able to defend their homes and worlds if the forces of a rival 'god' came for them.

Swallowing slowly, Daniel knocked on the door. “Wesley?” He called out. 

He heard footsteps, heard someone approaching the door from the other side. After a moment, the door opened, and Wesley was  standing there right in front of him.

Daniel barely recognized his old friend – Wesley was unshaven, haggard, the bags under his eyes far worse than he'd ever seen on his workaholic friend. He was dressed in loose, almost baggy clothes. And...

There was an angry red scar all the way across the left side of his throat. 

“Daniel.” Wesley's voice was a raspy whisper. At least it didn't look like it hurt him to speak. “I suppose I should have expected...”

“Wesley,” Daniel started, “No, wait, look- can I come in?” This was hardly anything to talk about out here in the open – both the question of what had happened to Wesley and...well, what he'd been planning to come to L.A. to talk to Wesley about anyway.

For a moment, Daniel wondered if Wesley was going to say no, but then his friend stepped aside just enough to let him into the apartment, the perfect non-verbal invitation.

Taking the hint, Daniel walked in, proving to Wesley's satisfaction that he wasn't a vampire – though the archeologist suspected it was more out of force of habit than anything else. 

Wesley closed the door behind him, but said nothing.

“Why didn't you pick up when I called?” Daniel asked softly, “I mean – you...you can talk...” He gestured on his own neck, “when...when you didn't answer after I called...when,” He frowned, “When Fred told me you didn't work at Angel Investigations anymore...”

Wesley looked away for a moment, but Daniel could see the pain in his friend's eyes. “Then I suppose you know what's happened, if you've talked to Fred.” Wesley told him, his voice bitter, still raspy.

_I'm gonna have to get used to that._

“No, actually, she didn't really say anything. She hung up on me pretty quick, too, it was actually somewhat rude...anyway, she just told me to not come to the Hyperion looking for you. Ever.” Daniel answered, still confused. He was going to find out what had happened, one way or the other. But he was willing to give Wesley a chance to tell him at his own pace.

“Familiar sounding language.” Wesley murmured. Daniel saw his friend's left hand twitch for a moment, and Daniel guessed he'd been about to run it over his scar. By now, though...Wesley had probably gotten a lot of practice at not doing that.

Wesley looked at Daniel carefully, and then looked away again, “I don't suppose I can expect you to simply leave, if I asked you politely to do so?”

“Wesley, I'm your friend. Whatever happened – I'm not going to just leave you here to drink your sorrows away.” Daniel could see the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the desk, and several empty beer bottles – all British beers, rather than American ones, Daniel noticed – in the trash can. At least his old friend didn't reek of alcohol, though. “I may not have been here when it happened, and for that – I'm sorry, I should have called sooner...your last letter came so much later than I expected, I...”

He shook his head, “I just figured you were caught up in some project, or a case or a translation that was taking up all your time.” Daniel looked back at Wesley, “But I'm here now. I'm your friend, and I'm not going to just leave and let you drink yourself to death, or whatever.”

Wesley scoffed quietly, “Really, Daniel? Because I've learned just how much 'friendship' counts for, these last few weeks.” 

_What the hell happened? This is not the man I spoke with last time I was in Los Angeles, not the man who wrote the last letter I got from him..._

“Look, Wesley, I don't know what happened between you and your friends. But whatever it was, it doesn't change the fact that you're my friend, and I'm yours. And that's not going to change. Now, can you please tell me what went wrong?”

Wesley looked at him again, then audibly sighed before saying raspily, “Initially, I suppose, you were right that I was caught up in a translation.” He walked over to his desk. “Connor was not just the Miracle Child, old friend, a human baby born to two vampires. His coming was prophesied. The ancient Nyazian Scrolls mentioned him, the writings therein described the coming of the one sired by the vampire with the soul.”

“Angel's son was part of some kind of...prophecy? An ancient prophecy dictating the future?” Daniel couldn't really believe that – okay, he'd had some trouble accepting Cordelia's visions, initially, but that was a far cry from an ancient prophecy dictating exactly was was going to happen hundreds or thousands of years in the future.

“Ah, Daniel. Prophecy is more complicated than that. Every one is full of conditional clauses, multiple meanings, omens, signs, date calculations, dead languages – usual several – and of course, they never seem to turn out the way you imagine they will.” Wesley chuckled darkly, humorlessly.

“That's why I didn’t believe it when I found it – I checked my translation over and over. I tried every interpretation, looked everywhere for conditional clauses that could prevent it coming to pass. But it still came out the same way, every time.” Wesley wasn't even really looking anything now, his gaze out into the window notwithstanding.

“What way, Wesley?” Daniel was at least keeping up with him – whatever had happened, whatever this prophecy involved...

“The Father Will Kill The Son.” Wesley intoned, obviously quoting something. “It was horribly clear – Angel was going to kill Connor.” He looked back at Daniel, “I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. So I tried everything I could think of – I consulted more sources, even one of the Loa. They all came back with the same answer. Every source, every time. The Father Will Kill The Son.”

“You thought Angel was going to-” Daniel could see now where this was going. He didn't understand why Wesley was so willing to believe a prophecy in the first place...but then...Wesley hadn't been.

_He checked everything. Double-checked. And he still got the same result._ Daniel believed that if Wesley had actually consulted a powerful spirit like a Loa...assuming that what he had read about their mythology corresponded even remotely with the real thing...and still come back with that result...

_God, why wouldn't he believe it?_

Wesley must have...Daniel knew his friend too well to be unable to guess what had happened – why his friends had abandoned him...maybe even what had happened to his throat...to land him in the hospital...

“You took Connor...to try and save him from that sort of fate.” Daniel didn't know Angel that well, granted...but the vampire wouldn't – couldn't have taken something like that well. Daniel's hand went to his throat, “Is that – did Angel...did he cut your throat, to get Connor back?”

“No. Angel didn't try to kill me.” Wesley said softly, “Not then, anyway.” _Not then?!_ “Nor did he get Connor back...the child was taken from me, by a woman working for an old enemy of Angel's. I _foolishly_ let down my guard...let her get close enough to slash my throat open. She left me for dead, took Connor and ran off...and then that enemy...Holtz...”

Wesley chuckled, again with any shred of humor present. “Holtz took Connor to a hell dimension of some sort.”

_I don't...holy crap...Wesley..._ “My God, Wes.” Daniel said softly, “I didn't – I can't imagine what that, I mean...” He'd been about to say 'I've died'...but he couldn't mention that yet.

_Every time I've died, it's been pretty quick._

“I just...I can't even imagine what that was like...but Wesley, something doesn't make sense. I mean, your friends...you were trying to save Connor. Hell, if you thought Angel was going to kill his son, he would have had to have been...” Daniel could only imagine how much worse than Jack's reaction to Charlie's death Angel's reaction would have been. “Surely they'd understand-”

“You'd think that, wouldn't you?” Wesley interrupted softly, “That's what kept me alive while I was bleeding out on the grass, you know. The hope that I'd see them again, that I could explain to my friends what had happened...” He shook his head, his voice now dominated by bitterness, anger, even...hate. “But then I learned that they didn't care to hear my side of the story. I can't blame Angel that much for trying to smother me to death with that pillow, after he finally decided to show up at the hospital. But the rest of them...Cordelia apparently decided I wasn't worth berating, wasn't worth even a phone call of concern for my well-being. Gunn...he clearly had no interest either. And Fred...” The pain in the Englishman's eyes was back in full force again.

Daniel had picked up, between the lines from Wesley's letters, that his friend had...well, that Wesley had developed a crush on Fred. Even though Daniel had read in Wesley's last letter that Gunn and Fred had gotten together romantically...he'd wondered...wondered just how badly Wesley had taken it. From his tone, Wes had been...accepting of the fact that the Texan woman had made her choice, and she hadn't chosen him. He'd hadn't seemed devastated...

But maybe deep down, he had been...and to have a woman he'd felt something for...whatever it was that Fred had said to him...

“Fred wasn't interested in hearing anything I had to say, you see. She came to my hospital room, threw my things onto the floor and told me that the prophecy had been a false one. False sympathy quickly became condemnation...she's the one who told me to not come back to the hotel. Ever. At least I was worth that much to one of my so-called 'friends'.”

Wesley shook his head, “But no, Daniel. They weren't interested in understanding why I did what I did. For some reason, they came to the conclusion that I actually intended Connor to end up in Holtz's hands, and that was quite simply that. Tried, convicted and sentenced without a chance to defend myself.” Wesley swallowed dryly. Daniel saw him reaching for the bottle – but not willing to let his friend start drinking just yet, the linguist grabbed Wesley's hand in a firm grip. 

“No. That's not the answer, my friend.” Daniel told him, looking his friend in the eye. 

After a moment, Wesley acquiesced and set the bottle down, before Daniel let go of his hand. Before Wesley could change his mind, Jackson picked up the bottle and moved it to the other end of the Englishman's 'living room'. “Sit down. I'll get you a glass of water.”

Surprisingly, Wesley actually complied and sat down in one of the chairs in the room. Once Daniel was in the kitchen, however, it took some doing for him to find a clean glass. He did manage it eventually – managed to find two, actually, and he filled both up from the tap, before coming back into the living room and handing Wesley one, and then sitting down across the coffee table from the other man.

Wesley held the glass in his hand, not really noticing it. “Whatever my reasons for doing what I did, Daniel, Angel was right about one thing. I failed Connor. I failed to protect him. I even failed to die protecting him.” Wesley looked past Daniel bitterly, “Another set of failures to add to the long line that have been my life.”

“Wesley-” Daniel started, wanting to...well, he wasn't sure what he wanted. Help his friend, yes, but how? What exactly could he say that could heal the wounds, mental and emotional, that had brought his friend to the dark place he was now? He wasn't sure.

“Don't say it, Daniel.” Wesley said carefully, taking a sip from the glass of water. “You wanted to know why I didn't pick up the phone, when you called earlier on?” Wesley looked directly at him. “I'm hardly deserving of your friendship, your sympathy. It's worth something that you at least came to check up on me – but after what I did...” Wesley's voice trailed off. “No.”

“If I understand everything you've told me so far correctly, what you did was try to save the life of your friend's son.” Daniel told him, frankly. “What you did was nearly die, have that same friend attempt to kill you, and have the rest of your friends abandon you...like you meant nothing to them.” Daniel took a breath. “Look, Wesley, I'm not going to say you didn't make a mistake in doing what you did. You wouldn't believe me if I did. But that's all it was. You were trying to do the right thing. You were doing the right thing. I mean, it's not your fault that this...'Holtz' person ended up taking Connor into a hell dimension, is it?” 

Part of Daniel couldn't quite believe what it was he was talking about – a prophesied child of two vampires being taken into a hell dimension. It had been just over half a year since he'd learned about the supernatural world, and a lot of it was still more than a little hard to really accept.

Wesley shook his head, disbelieving. “Daniel, quite frankly, it's no one's fault other than my own. I shouldn't have let Justine get so close to me. I _should_ have just shot her when she showed up, and disappeared out of Los Angeles with Connor. I still don't know why I didn't, I should have known she was lying, what she would do...” Wesley once more looked past his old friend. “My life is failure, Daniel. Failed at being a Watcher. Failed at being a lone 'Rogue Demon Hunter'. Failed at working with, then leading Angel Investigations. There's nothing I can't fail at, it would seem.” 

Daniel saw Wesley's eyes move to the bottle of whiskey, and Daniel suppressed what he wanted to tell him. As long as Wesley didn't go for it yet...

Daniel knew his friend. If he was allowed to wallow in his pain and misery, it would just get worse for him. And Daniel knew he couldn't let the British man wallow. Especially not with alcohol. Wesley had been a poor drunk back in the old days, and a depressed, drunk Wesley would be even worse than this bitter and self-recriminating one, Daniel could guess.

As much as he didn't like taking advantage of Wesley's estrangement from his friends, Daniel also knew that having something else to focus on, something new and unimagined...it would be exactly the sort of thing Wesley needed right now. And a change of scenery, from a city that now possessed far too many bad memories, would only help more...

“And the worst part, Daniel, is that my best hope for any chance to be productive in using my abilities, such as they are, is to wait for a crisis so bad that Angel has no choice but to come and ask for my help.” Wes said with a look of rancor, before he took another gulp of his water. 

“That's – not entirely true, Wesley.” Daniel told his friend carefully. Sitting back just a little more, he took a deep breath and then said, “Remember how, right before I got into my cab to LAX last time I was in town, I told you that part of the reason why I'd come to L.A. was to offer you a job at the same place I worked? And how I said that our lines of work were more similar than you might think?” 

Wesley nodded, and Daniel saw that his friend was curious as to where this was going. “Well...as it turns out,” Jackson told him softly, “I was even more right than I thought.”

**April 27th, 2002  
Wesley's Apartment**

“I was even more right than I thought.”

Wesley looked at his old friend, feeling traces of curiosity – and confusion, rising in his mind. 

Ever since Daniel had made that parting comment before leaving Angel Investigations, Wesley had spent some time – when he'd had it – puzzling over the man's words, trying to figure out what it was that his friend really did nowadays. He'd believed Jackson to not be lying, which meant that whatever Daniel's job, simply translating for the Air Force did not even come close to describing his true line of work. 

But, Wesley hadn't been able to think of anything. Daniel obviously hadn't been previously aware of the supernatural, but...

_Well, I suppose he isn't going to just bring it up without telling me what he meant then, and what he means now._

Which meant, Wesley suspected, that a job offer was coming as well. 

_So that's it. He only came all this way because he needed my help, not because-_

Immediately, Wesley forced that thought from his head. Daniel was his friend, of that he was certain. The man wouldn't have even come at all, if he hadn't needed Wesley's help. Not yet, anyway. Just as he'd said, Daniel had assumed – and with good reason – that Wesley was just caught up in a project, or a case, or a translation of some sort. That he'd been too busy to correspond just then. They usually didn't talk via phone calls, given both their workaholic habits and their preference for the written word, so Daniel wouldn't have had occasion...

Not until he'd called the Hyperion, and realized _something_ had happened...with...with what Fred had told him.

So. The real question was, what was the job offer? What was it that Daniel did...how was it similar to his own line of work...and would he take it?

_I can't really know that- not until I've heard more..._

Part of Wesley couldn't believe he could even think about this sort of thing, given all that had happened recently...and yet, another part of him definitely could. Because Wesley couldn't stand an unsolved puzzle – and Daniel knew that as well as anyone else.

And it was much...much better to think about this question, than anything else that currently came to mind. 

Wesley swallowed carefully, trying to ignore the slight stab of pain at the motion.

Angel and the others had cast him out. That had been made quite clear to him. All connections severed, and nothing said that better than Fred telling him to get lost and stay lost at the hospital. Taking a moment, Wesley came to the conclusion that there basically wasn't anything left for him in L.A. He'd even told Daniel as much. So, did he really want to hang around until Angel Investigations needed him again? If they ever did?

_No. I don't really want to...I just didn't see any other options..._

Now, of course, if Daniel really was going to do what Wesley suspected he was about to do, he did have another option. That was...not exactly an unwelcome development.

“I suppose this means you can tell me now?” the former Watcher asked.

Daniel nodded. “I can. Though before I can actually tell you,” Daniel hesitated, then added, “You will have to sign a non-disclosure agreement.” 

Wesley raised an eyebrow, and Daniel just looked back at him. “It's the rules, Wesley. And believe me, the Big Secret's certainly big enough to merit one.”

“What sort of agreement? What are the terms?” Wesley knew his tone was flat and serious. 

_I'm not signing anything without reading it very carefully. I've learned the value of the fine-print._

“Well, I don't have a copy right here with me, but it's pretty simple. Don't tell anyone who isn't authorized to know what I'm about to tell you, or the US government will send you to prison for a very long time.” Daniel frowned a moment, “Look, I'm hardly thrilled by it myself, especially since I know you and trust you, but keeping this secret...it _does_ need to stay secret. For now.”

“I see. How long will it take you to obtain this paperwork?” Wesley asked mildly, his interest definitely engaged.

“I'll have to go back to my hotel room and get it.” Daniel told him. “And I'm sure...well, there's some other people I work with that want to meet you. The rest of my team.”

“They want to meet _me_?” Wesley knew how bitter and skeptical he sounded, but simply couldn't help himself. 

“Yes, Wesley. I trust my team with my life, and they trust me with theirs.” Daniel again paused for a moment, seeming to consider and then said, “Please believe me. The explanations will be easier with all of us on hand, and, well,” Daniel shrugged, “They're my friends.”

Wesley followed what Daniel was getting at there. “Alright. You can bring them there. I assume you've filled them in on the basics about me?”

Daniel nodded, “Yea.”

“Including the Watcher's Council?”

Daniel nodded again.

Wesley looked away a moment, then back at his friend, “Are they going to-”

“I made Jack and Sam promise to hold off on the whole Slayer thing.” Daniel interrupted him. “They'll have words with you about it, I'm sure. But later; we'll deal with everything else first. And that'll take a long while, anyway, even after the explanations are done.”

“Well, I'll certainly grant that you know how to catch and keep my attention.” Wesley told his friend. He managed to bottle up the sudden surge of bitterness and anger and self-loathing that rose up in him, as thinking about Daniel's friends of course brought to mind his own...

Former friends. 

Yes. No point fooling himself about it any longer. That's all they were, now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it. Not Stargate SG-1, not Buffy the Vampire Slayer, not Angel the Series, etc. I own Agata, Jaresh and P5X-194, in so far as I can 'own' anything in a fanfic.

Many thanks as always to Starway Man for his beta-reading services.

And yes, I'm aware that under show canon Daniel went through the gate in 1996 (as he spent a year on Abydos and Season 1 takes place 1997). But just as with the other changes to the timeline to fit the shows together, I moved the date to keep the time span accurate.

Old Friends: A New Direction

By Alkeni

Chapter 5

**April 27th, 2002  
Wesley's Apartment, Los Angeles**

It hadn't taken Daniel that long to get to the hotel, grab the non-disclosure agreement and bring the rest of SG-1 with him back to Wesley's apartment building. He hadn't filled the others in on the intimate details of what had happened between Wesley and his friends – Jackson figured that was up to Wesley to tell or not to tell, as he chose – but he had told the rest of his unit that there had been a serious falling out between Wesley and the rest of Angel Investigations.

Still, as Daniel approached Wesley's apartment, and saw the open door, he realized his absence had been long enough for his old friend to have received a visitor – especially once he heard a familiar voice from within the apartment.

“Wes, I don't have time-!” Gunn's desperate and angry voice threw Daniel – from everything Wesley had said, he hadn't expected anyone from Angel Investigations to come here, for any reason. 

“I needed to live,” Wesley said in that rasping voice of his, yet it carried clearly out into the corridor, despite the fact that it was so low. Daniel held up a hand to stop the rest of SG-1. He didn't want to walk in and interrupt Wesley and his...former friend. Both Jackson and everyone else then heard Wesley growl out, “I wanted to see my friends again. To explain to the people I trusted, and loved... my side of what happened.”

Obviously, Gunn wasn't having any of it...Wesley had been right: “We know what-” 

Wesley's voice cut across Gunn's, louder than Daniel had heard it earlier, “You don't know anything.” The bitterness and anger in Wesley's tone was surprising, at least to Daniel's ears...the archeologist had never heard his friend talk like that, with such...disgust and maybe even hatred...maybe. It was hard to tell, what with that scratchy, raspy tone of his.

“I'll help because it's Fred. But just so we understand each other – the next time any of you 'needs' my help...you won't find it. Never again. We're done; now get out.” 

Wesley's harsh words were enough to get Gunn to turn around and start to leave, the half-empty bottle of whiskey clearly visible in his hands. From his position outside in the hall, Daniel saw the black man staring at the alcohol thoughtfully...

He then witnessed Gunn staring the four of them standing outside the apartment, and from the look on his face, Charles obviously recognized Daniel if no one else. For a moment, he seemed like he was about to say something...but then the guy just brushed past them, and Daniel watched Gunn practically run towards the stairs...

_Probably all for the best, actually. I can't really think of anything to say to him, either._

Once Gunn was out of view, Jack looked at Daniel, eyebrow raised, “Serious falling out, you said?”

“Maybe that was something of an understatement.” Daniel admitted softly. He turned back towards the door to Wesley's apartment, and knocked lightly on the frame as he walked in.

“Daniel.” Wesley said, his voice soft yet raspy again. Then he saw the rest of SG-1 coming in behind him. “And this would be the rest of your team?”

Daniel nodded, “The rest of SG-1, yes. This is Colonel Jack O'Neill, Major Samantha Carter and Teal'c.” He ignored the 'look' on Jack's face as he introduced the Jaffa by his real name, because Daniel knew that the usual 'Murray' thing wouldn't be likely to work out well here; not after what they'd all overheard just now. Besides, Daniel was all but certain Wesley would sign the NDA. 

_Speaking of which..._ Daniel extended the forms to Wesley, nodding at the man's raised eyebrow. Wesley took the document and stood there, carefully reading the agreement, from beginning to end. It didn't take him long – it was a very basic thing, actually. The SGC had decided too much legalese could risk burying the key point – namely, keep our secrets or you go to prison for a very, very long time.

Turning to his desk, Wesley set the NDA on the table, picked up a fountain pen and signed it in all the right places; before turning back to SG-1 and handing it to his friend.

“You were right. Quite basic and blunt.” Wesley gestured to the couch and chairs. “Have a seat, all of you.” 

**April 27th, 2002  
Wesley's Apartment, Los Angeles**

“Have a seat, all of you.”

Wesley watched as Daniel sat down in the chair he'd sat in before, and Major Carter and Colonel O'Neill took the sofa. The one called 'Teal'c' remained standing, an impassive, almost unreadable expression on his face.

Wesley said nothing for a moment, looking over the three other members of Daniel's team. O'Neill was fairly easy to get a handle on. Career soldier, and he'd obviously been at it for a long time – but despite the graying of his hair, he clearly remained a more than capable fighter. Wesley found that he didn't care to get into a fight with the man, either with or without a weapon. He might have the edge over O'Neill with a sword, due to more familiarity with such a bladed instrument, but the careful yet confident way the older man carried himself made Wes not want to bet money on who'd win.

As for the woman...Major Carter wasn't what Wesley would have expected from a United States Air Force officer. That was perhaps...old fashioned of him, in a way, especially given his familiarity with several strong-willed and powerful women. She was clearly an attractive female, but she made no effort to emphasize her natural beauty. At least not at the moment, which made sense. And while she didn't present as obvious a powerful opponent as O'Neill did, Wesley had no doubts that she too could likely beat him in most forms of combat. There was just...just something about her, which made the Englishman believe that.

Also, there was something more – an active curiosity in the way Carter was moving her eyes around the room, looking at his book shelves and the titles...and the clearly-visible bandage on her neck. 

_Right where a vampire bite might be... Interesting._

As for the last member of the unit, Teal'c...he was... 

Odd. He seemed out of place, unfamiliar with his surroundings – not just this apartment, but maybe even apartments in general. Wesley didn't know why he got that impression from examining the black man, but he nonetheless did. Teal'c also carried himself not like a soldier, but a...warrior. O'Neill had carried himself like a military man, a professional. But Teal'c carried himself more like...

_Well, like Angel, or Gunn...no, better yet, Buffy or Faith._ Not as a professional practitioner of the science of warfare, that was the study of a soldier; but someone well-versed in the art of combat, perhaps a leader but one who was more experienced fighting as one, not as one fighting as part of a unit.

An interesting collection of people, most definitely.

“So.” Wesley said after a moment, “I've signed your non-disclosure agreement. Shall we begin?”

“One question first.” Colonel O'Neill said first, before Daniel could start what was presumably his workplace's equivalent to the Council's 'the world is older than you know...' speech.

Daniel shot O'Neill a look, but the Colonel just sent one straight back to the archeologist. Daniel was the first to blink, and look away. Wesley noticed that as well.

O'Neill then said simply, “What did we just catch the tail end of?”

Wesley looked at the Colonel, then over to Daniel.

“I didn't tell them any details regarding your...falling out.” Daniel answered Wesley's unasked question.   
“Thank you.” Wesley nodded then he turned his gaze back to O'Neill. “In short, it was the last interaction I'm likely to have with any of those I once called friend in this city. And what little remained of my bridges with them are now thoroughly destroyed.” 

Wesley met O'Neill's gaze, and after a few moments, the other man nodded crisply. The British man could tell that the Colonel wasn't exactly concerned as he said, “Fine. Daniel, go ahead.”

Jackson nodded, “In 1929, during a dig on the Giza Plataeu, an artifact was found. A large stone ring, though not of any type of stone anyone could identify. The outer edges of the ring were covered in symbols.” Daniel took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Wesley, who unfolded and examined it as Jackson continued to speak. “At the time, it was something no one could explain or really understand – no one knew what it was or where it came from, or what it was for, or even how it was made.”

“Anyway, in 1939, it was brought to the United States by ship, and during World War II it was experimented on by the Army. Eventually, it simply ended up in storage until the military, working with Dr. Catherine Langford – the daughter of the man who originally found the artifact – began working on it again a few decades later.” Daniel paused a moment, “But it wasn't until I was brought into the project during 1997, that any real progress was made in actually making it work.”

Wesley looked up at Daniel, his eyes involuntarily wide. 1997 was the year that Daniel had vanished, all communication between them ceasing completely. Wesley had heard – and even started to believe – rumors that he was dead, had committed suicide after the humiliation related to the last dying gasp of his academic career.

Of course, not long afterwards a letter had arrived from a very much alive Daniel, explaining that he'd gone 'off the grid' to an out of the way place to collect himself after the loss of any future in Academia. 

_So whatever happened during that year..._

“This stone ring, Wesley. The ancient Egyptians called it a Stargate, because they knew what it did. Sam can give you the science behind how it actually works, but...” Daniel's voice trailed off for a moment, “Basically, it's a device that generates wormholes in space-time that can take anyone who steps through it to a similar such device on another planet. It's constructed from a material that doesn't exist anywhere on this planet, which tells you something about its true origins. And there are thousands of them throughout this galaxy.” There was an almost 'ripping off the bandage' note in Daniel's words – and Wesley blinked, before searching the other man's face, the faces of his friends, for any sign of trickery, or insanity, or anything like that.

There wasn't anything of the sort to be seen. 

“Let me see if I'm following you correctly, Daniel.” Wesley said carefully after a few moments of silence, “An alien artifact was found at Giza in 1929, and now is being used by the United States Air Force to travel to other planets. And _this_ is what you've been associated with the last four and a half years?” Wesley didn't...disbelieve Daniel, but still... 

_Aliens? Wormholes to other planets...._

A part of Wesley's brain couldn't help but wonder what Fred would have to say about all this, but he forced himself to bury that thought at once. Thinking of Fred – or of any of the others – was not something he wanted to do right now. Maybe never again.

“I don't want to think you're lying to me, nor am I saying you are, but something like this...it is rather much to accept based merely on someone's word on the matter.”

Daniel nodded. “I know. But the Stargate network is real, Wesley. And I don't blame you for having doubts, it _does_ sound completely crazy at first. But -” Daniel paused for a moment, then, “The truth is I was right all along, my friend. About everything.”

Wesley's mouth closed, whatever he'd been about to say forgotten. If there was one thing he knew Daniel wouldn't joke about, wouldn't lie about under any circumstances, it was being vindicated over his theories concerning the age of the Pyramids and the roots of Egyptian civilization. Wesley nodded slowly, and gestured with his left hand for Daniel to continue.

“The Pyramids really are older than what's conventionally accepted – and Egyptian civilization comes from even older roots than any of my former colleagues would ever believe. Oddly enough,” Daniel added with a wry smile, “my detractors were right, too – they claimed I was saying that aliens built the pyramids. I wasn't...but it's actually true.” He held up a hand, and Wesley resisted the urge to interrupt.

“Well, they were built at the order and under the oversight of aliens, anyway. Thousands of years ago, Egypt and much of the rest of Earth was ruled by alien parasites called the Goa'uld, who took human hosts. They used their technology to masquerade as gods – Ra, Hathor, Marduk, Cronos, Sokar, and all the rest. Their rule was centered in Egypt, but they were based in other places as well. Egypt was where they kept the Stargate, though. Best as I can tell, around five thousand years ago...the people of Ancient Egypt staged a rebellion and overthrew the governors appointed by Ra – the leader of the Goa'uld. Those people ended up burying the Gate, and then they tried to destroy all evidence of the Goa'uld's existence. History says they more or less succeeded...”

Daniel shrugged. “We still don't know why Ra didn't come back and punish the rebels, his ego was such that it _should_ have happened – but it didn't. Maybe there was a crisis of some sort elsewhere in the galaxy back then, who knows – see, planets all over the Milky Way had been seeded with human life, then enslaved to work for their so-called 'gods'. And apart from humans to serve as slaves...or hosts, Earth doesn't actually have any resources they really _need_. Plus, the Goa'uld – a race of ego-maniacal megalomaniacs, if there ever was one – spend more time fighting each other, as opposed to anyone or anything else. Personally, I suspect Ra was too busy dealing with all the pretenders to his throne, and Earth wasn't important enough anymore to conquer and re-enslave. Granted, the other Goa'uld _did_ continue to steal humans from various cultures on Earth until at least the 10th or 11th century C.E. But not as much, and eventually, they lost interest in Earth, or they lost Earth's Stargate address, or something.”

“Until you went through it in 1997?” Wesley theorized, a thousand and one questions bouncing around his head. What did he mean by 'Stargate Address' exactly? He could guess it was how one made sure they went to a specific planet...

Still. Wrapping his mind around all this...the _sheer_ scale of it...

“Pretty much.” Daniel admitted. “After I figured out how to get the darn thing working again, our first mission took us to a planet called Abydos, which Ra ruled. He happened to arrive while Jack and I and some others were there...long story short, a nuclear weapon blew up on Ra's ship while it was in orbit over the planet. And at the time, we thought that was it – that Ra was the last of his race, that the Gate only connected Earth and Abydos...”

“Which is why when what was left of my team came back through the Gate with me, we told everyone Daniel had stayed behind to activate the nuke. And that Ra's ship had been on the planet, not in orbit.” Colonel O'Neill interjected, picked up the story. “They believed us, and the program was mothballed...until the day another one of those snakes came through the Gate. Bad guy calling himself Apophis. That's what led to the creation of the Stargate Command and SG-1.”

Wesley blinked. Again. He wasn't much of a blinker, but occasionally, something was just so shocking, one just had to blink. He looked to O'Neill, wondering why the Colonel had chosen this moment to interrupt and continue the story.

After a moment, Wesley spoke, “This is all utterly fascinating, and I have many questions for you, of course, but...to be honest, I fail to see what all this really has to do with me. Or rather, why you decided to confide this secret to me.”

“Think about it, Wesley.” Daniel said, leaning closer, “Thousands of worlds, populated by descendants of people speaking variants of almost every language that's ever existed on Earth. Not to mention the language of the Goa'uld themselves. When I first came here to L.A., it was to try and recruit you – just for your ancient language skills alone. Now, though...” Daniel's voice trailed off a moment, then, “Well, think about it. You yourself once told me that vampires exist all over the world, and the Goa'uld took people from across Earth for centuries, millennia. What do _you_ think might have happened?”

Wesley narrowed his eyes and turned his gaze onto Major Carter, to the bandage on her neck. “You recently found vampires on another planet. Descendants of one or two abducted by your...space parasites. Which would explain why you're here...though I don't see why you didn't go to the other government agencies involved in the supernatural, rather than a civilian. Even if I do have a history with Daniel.”

“And let those NID scumbags into the SGC? I don't frickin' think so.” O'Neill told him sternly. “That's not happening. Besides, according to Danny-boy here, you're as good with languages as he is; and after all these years, I _know_ that's pretty damn good.”

“Vampires are only on one planet – that we know of anyway, we'll be undertaking an investigation into that just in case. But even once we get your help on this...” Daniel let his voice trail off a moment, “well, we could use your help for all kinds of things beyond that.”

_Understandable...though I'm not sure what this 'NID' is, even if obviously they're unpopular at this 'Stargate Command'._

“That all makes sense, apart from one thing. If they're only on one planet so far that you know of,” Wesley started, “then why not just never go back there again? I may have extensive experience in fighting against the undead, but it's not something to be done lightly. Unless one is the Slayer, no human being should fight a vampire unless they have to, or the odds are overwhelmingly in their favor.”

“Yea, well, speaking of that-” O'Neill started to say, an angry look appearing on his face. 

“Jack! You _promised_ not to get into that topic today.” Daniel interrupted, staring at the team leader. The Colonel scowled but obediently shut his mouth, however reluctantly.

“Well, getting back on topic? To be honest,” Major Carter said, unconsciously reaching a hand up towards her neck, “under different circumstances, I think...I'd probably be in favor of simply locking the planet out of our dialing computer, and just leave it at that. Unfortunately, one of our primary objectives when going through the Stargate is to find new resources or technologies we can use to defend Earth from the Goa'uld. And this planet, P5X-194, it has such a resource – Trinium. Basically, it's a metal that's a hundred times lighter and stronger than steel. And P5X-194 has, from what the locals say, quite a lot of it. We haven't been able to find any other planet with such deposits that we can access. So this is too important to pass up, we have to find a way to deal with the...vampire presence.” Sam laughed half-humorlessly a moment, “And _that's_ something I never thought I'd hear myself say, I'll freely admit.”

“Understandable. Coping with the existence of the supernatural isn't easy. Most people repress such knowledge to maintain their sanity. I assume you were bitten?” Carter nodded and Wes added, “Then you should count yourself lucky. _Very_ lucky. Few people are bitten and live to tell the tale, fewer still who aren't saved by someone actually familiar with the undead.” He looked to Daniel, “Of course, you were there at the time. And frankly, I never would have imagined _this_ is what you do for a living now. I have to admit, Daniel, it sounds...fascinating, to say the least.”

Wesley said nothing more for a moment, before adding, “So, then, this is where the job offer comes in?”

“Pretty much.” Daniel nodded. He took a breath, “So? Are you interested?”

“Of course.” Wesley nodded, then looked over at the one called 'Teal'c' “One question, however: You're an alien, aren't you? Or at least, someone not of this planet.”

Teal'c, who had thus far been silent, nodded, “I am Jaffa. My people were bred by the Goa'uld to serve as their priests and warriors. Most remain enslaved to false gods, but since encountering and then joining SG-1 nearly five years ago, I am no longer alone in seeking freedom for my people.” He took off the cap he'd been wearing, and Wesley took note of the gold emblem etched onto his forehead.

“I see. And if you don't mind my asking, what exactly distinguishes you from a human?” There was something in Teal'c's tone that struck him as odd, something which reminded Wes almost of Angel; though not by much. Only in the sense of trying to make up for past actions – yet Teal'c's words showed a thought for the future, not a brooding on the past.

In response, Teal'c lifted his shirt a little, revealing two cuts that formed an X over his stomach...a pocket of some sort _in_ his stomach, obviously. Then Wesley recoiled as a _creature_ came out, looking somewhat like a snake, but covered in slime, squealing and hissing. It was only visible for a moment, before it withdrew back into the...pouch?

“The Jaffa were bred to serve as incubators for infant Goa'uld. We are dependent on them for our existence; but in turn, a Jaffa will have perfect heath, live longer and be far stronger than a human.”

“Dependent?”

“Were I to remove this parasite and destroy it, as I greatly wish to do, I would die slowly over the course of the next few days...unless I had a replacement.”

“I...” Wesley's voice trailed off for a moment, as he added yet another thing to cope with to his growing list of things that looked like they'd form his new reality. “I see.” He said again. 

The British man looked back to Daniel, “So, to answer your question, yes. I accept the job offer.” Wes smiled a little, ignoring all the other weights on his mind. For some reason, it now felt much easier to do that than it did right after Gunn had left. “And I assume you'll be wanting me to move to Colorado?”   
“You assume right.” O'Neill nodded once.

“Very well...however, it will take me at least a day to pack up all my things and make ready to leave. And this is quite a lot to...ruminate on. So, if you come back this time tomorrow-?”

“Of course.” Daniel nodded, before he and the rest of SG-1 showed themselves out after some hasty farewells.

**April 28th, 2002  
Wesley's Apartment, Los Angeles**

Apart from all his books, and scrolls, and a few assorted personal possessions, there was actually little Wesley felt he really needed to take with him to start on this new path he was about to embark upon. Certainly, some of the essentials included weapons – crosses, holy water, stakes, crossbow, a sword. Clothing, of course, and that sort of thing. But nothing more than the basics. 

Nothing sentimental, however. What few items he had like that, photos and such...

Well, he simply didn't want them anymore. What Wes did want was his collection of artifacts that was still at the Hyperion Hotel, which included some of the best tomes and amulets available on this side of the pond, but he certainly wasn't going to go there and ask that Angel to hand them over; Of course Fred should have brought everything that belonged to him at the hospital that night, and not merely the items she thought were...non-essential.

_And as for everyone at Angel Investigations..._

Wesley knew part of him still wanted to help his former friends, if they ever found him again after today; if they contacted him in desperate enough straits...he knew how often the end of the world seemed to spring up in Los Angeles, and Angel _did_ have that annoying tendency to think that anything he wanted to happen, _should_ happen. Wesley figured that with time, that desire would quickly vanish, as it rightly should, but until then...

Well, he had burned all his bridges behind him with the Watchers' Council, when he'd sided with Angel over the issue of Faith. Now it was time to burn all his bridges once more, only this time with the vampire himself and all his former friends. _It does seem to be one of the things I'm actually very good at, oddly enough._

Doubtless, when all the members of Angel Investigations opened the letters he'd written them earlier on today...well, what bridges existed in any of his former friends' minds would be gone. The former Watcher grimaced; even if those people desperately needed his help, they'd never even _consider_ trying to find him and asking for it. Or more likely _demanding_ it, as Gunn had done last night.

Wesley grabbed the last box of books and headed for the front door, taking one last look around his apartment. The place somehow felt...empty, despite still being filled with furniture and the like; a fitting precursor to his imminent departure from this city, perhaps. Wes shrugged to himself. Anything left behind here could be burned or stolen, for all he cared...at least, all he could care, right now.

When he reached his car – which had recently been reclaimed from the L.A.P.D.'s impound yard, after the cops had found the vehicle empty and idling on the outskirts of town, where Holtz had left it – Wesley put the box into the trunk and then closed the lid.

“So, you're going to drive all the way to Colorado Springs?” 

Wesley turned at hearing Daniel's voice behind him, before saying raspily, “It will take several days, yes, but I'd much rather drive than fly in this case. I need the time to wrap my mind around everything you and yours have told me.” Wesley nodded to the bundle of folders under Daniel's arm, “The mission reports?”

Daniel nodded, and as Wesley accepted them from his friend the linguist added, “Enough to answer some of what I'd imagine are your biggest questions.”

“Alright.” Wesley dropped them onto the passenger front seat. He extended a hand to Daniel. “I'll see you in Colorado Springs, then. May I borrow your couch until I get a place of my own?”

Daniel accepted Wesley's hand and shook it, smiling slightly. “My couch is always available for an old friend, Wes.”

Wesley nodded and the two men parted company; one heading back to the van containing his teammates, and the other climbing into his car to depart the City of Angels and his life therein.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Angel the Series or Stargate SG-1. No money is made off this, which has been written by a fan for the enjoyment of other fans.

Thanks to Starway Man, my beta-reader

Warning: Extremely bitter, angry and frankly just plain nasty Wesley thoughts ahead. Don't like, don't read.

Old Friends: A New Direction

By Alkeni

Chapter 6

**April 28th, 2002  
Outside the Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles**

The postman didn't take any real notice of the four letters he dropped into the creepy, abandoned-looking hotel's mailbox. If he had, most likely, all he would have concluded was that the similar handwriting on all the envelopes meant that the sender was almost certainly the same person, for all four letters. And he could not have guessed, even remotely, what was written on the missives within.

_Dear Angel,_

_I don't expect an apology from you for trying to kill me within that hospital, after what happened with Connor. To expect that, I'd have to be able to forgive myself for what I did, and that is something I cannot do. Connor was your son, and I was foolish enough to let Justine get close enough to slash my throat open, and kidnap him. It would be too much to ask of you, of anyone, to grant forgiveness under those circumstances. Taking your son was one thing –_

_But I lost him, and to your worst enemy._

_So, in a sense, I forgive you for trying to kill me. Not that I believe forgiveness from **me** means anything to you any longer._

_But if truth be told, what **I** cannot forgive **you** for is what you said, just before you attempted to smother me to death. How you gave me hope, hope that the one person I'd wronged the most – might actually be able to understand that I hadn't colluded with Holtz to steal Connor away from you. That maybe there was a chance our friendship could somehow survive what had happened._

_To offer me that hope, and then try to kill me...well, quite frankly, that's the kind of thing that Angeus would do, rather than you. And yet, as you yourself said, it was Angel-with-a-soul who attempted to murder me as I lay there helpless, and unable to defend myself._

_Perhaps you should consider just what that means. That even with a soul, even with you seeking redemption for all the crimes Angelus committed...you can still be so utterly sadistic, under the right circumstances._

_While it is my most fervent hope that we will never see each other again, every god and goddess willing, if I do find some way to retrieve Connor from whatever hell dimension Holtz took him to, I will inform you of said occurrence at once. I suppose I owe you that much, despite your actions in the hospital that night._

_Nonetheless, I will say this: If you continue to lose sight of the mission, as I've noticed you doing more and more often over the past two years...if you continue letting your obsessions consume you, then you'll never find Connor, no matter how hard you try. Plus you'll drive away or lose, one way or another, each of your friends, all your links to humanity._

_Perhaps most important of all, even Cordelia herself. Don't think I don't know how you truly feel about her, nowadays._

_And then, alone with your own thoughts and only Angelus to keep you company..._

_Well, we both know how easy it would be for you to revert to what you became during that whole Darla incident, last year. I suspect that if – or rather, when – you hit rock bottom once more, there won't be anyone to help you back up the second time around. And once you go all stupid again...you may seek comfort in a woman's arms, like you did with Connor's mother that night._

_Maybe. Possibly. Depends on the circumstances, I suppose._

_But if you do lose your soul that way – I'll freely admit that I won't be surprised by that particular occurrence, at all. The day when Angelus is unleashed after all your hopes of redemption are lost, and someone, anyone, can finally put you down with a clear conscience._

_So watch yourself Angel, lest you damn both yourself and anyone foolish enough to remain with you._

_I truly hope that we never meet again. But if we do, vampire, don't think I'll be the easy target I was in that hospital room._

_That much I can promise you, without any shred of doubt on my part._

_Wesley_

__

* * *

_  
Dear Cordelia,_

_I can't say that I'm actually surprised you took Angel's side against mine, with regard to what's happened with Connor. That you accepted – almost immediately, it would seem – that I was no longer part of the group. That what I did, regardless of my intent, was unforgivable._

_But oddly enough, I **was** surprised to learn that our friendship didn't matter even a little to you. I wasn't worth a hospital visit, or a card of some sort – not even worth berating for my actions, not even a bloody text message to demand to know what the hell I was thinking, trying to get Connor away from Angel before the boy's father murdered him. I wasn't worth anything to you, it would seem. _

_Not one word, Cordelia. What does that say about you as a person, let alone a friend? It actually made me suspect that you really **haven't** changed as much since High School as I'd thought. Not deep down where it matters, anyway._

_And since our friendship doesn't apparently matter to you, I suppose it no longer matters to me either. That's part of the reason why I thought I should mention that, in my view, you and Angel deserve each other, nowadays._

_Don't think that I never noticed that damned vampire staring at you with a look of longing and desire on his face, after you took Darla's place as Connor's mother figure. And what with the way I saw you acting before your boyfriend from Pylea showed up..._

_Well, sooner or later, the Groosalugg will realize he's not the one you truly love, and he'll leave you. I hope for his sake you break his heart quickly and cleanly, it's the best he can possibly hope for under the circumstances. And then – perhaps – you and Angel can explore your new-found love together. See where that love will take you five, ten, twenty years from now._

_Of course, if at some point you and he actually consummate that love...well, either Angel won't experience a moment of perfect happiness, and you'll have to live with the knowledge that Buffy Summers gave him something which you can't. Or else you'll unleash Angelus– finally let that soulless demon out to play again. To kill, maim, torture and rape to his heart's content, to be perfectly blunt about it._

_I will admit, a small part of me actually hopes that you **do** bring Angelus back. Not only because it would allow someone to slay that soulless monster with a clear conscience, but also because...well, given how Angel acted whilst under the influence of that Doximall way back when, and his behavior in Sunnydale the odds are that you would be his first victim, once the curse is broken. I strongly suspect Angelus would either kill you or turn you immediately, perhaps even whilst you two were still in bed together; it would certainly be in keeping with his twisted notions of 'gratitude', so to speak. _

_I shouldn't wish death on you, or vampirism, and most of me truly doesn't._

_But again, a small part of me does. Because I can't spare a single positive thought for you right now, just as you couldn't spare a single thought for me._

_Oh, one last thing – I would have thought that you of all people, who knew Angelus firsthand in Sunnydale, would have understood the true danger Connor was in. How even if Angel would never harm his son, Angelus certainly could and would have. Without a second thought, or even a first one. And you and I both know just how easy it is for the vampire to lose control of himself, don't we?_

_I hope for your sake, Cordelia, that we never meet again._

_Wesley_

__

* * *

_  
Dear Gunn,_

_You've been in my thoughts a great deal ever since you burst into my apartment last night, demanding that I help you save Fred's life._

_I suppose it must be wonderful, to be able to feel so self-righteous as to demand my help like you've done something to deserve it; like I actually owe you anything anymore. I've been wondering what you were feeling the previous evening; anger and determination, yes, but there was obviously more. For you to stand there, stating that you had no interest in hearing my side of what happened, that you were content with the comfortable lies you've told yourself...and then to **demand** my help, to use Fred's name to try to manipulate me into doing so..._

_What does that say about your character nowadays, I wonder?_

_Yes, I helped because it was Fred. But after everything that had happened, quite frankly, you had no **right** to expect my help. And yet you did..._

_I'm not a resource for you to use and discard at your pleasure, Charles. If you haven't learned that lesson yet, then it's a miracle you're still alive._

_I remember a certain day within Caritas many months back, when you said that you'd never be Angel's friend, not really. Because of what he was, and how you knew that someday you might have to kill him. But I wonder now if that's actually true. If you would kill him if you had to, I mean._

_Before everything imploded? Our friendship was becoming strained, I know, and perhaps I bear some of the blame for that. It's hard to be best friends with someone you're keeping secrets from, after all. But it still strikes me as amusing, how you picked the vampire over the human. Was it because you were worried I'd steal Fred away from you? The truth is I never had any intention of doing so, whether you believe that or not. As I said back then, the woman made her choice – and she chose you. End of story._

_But whatever your reasons, you chose Angel. You chose to believe what he said and refused to even hear my side of things, content that you knew everything there was to know regarding what happened with Connor's kidnapping. Nonetheless, as I said last night...you knew **nothing** , and you still know nothing. Perhaps the story of your life._

_You should take a good, hard look at yourself and figure out whether you can still kill Angel if you had to, Gunn. Because the way things seem likely to go with him now, given Cordelia's not-so-repressed feelings for him and Angel's for her...it may well become necessary to do that, and sooner rather than later._

_Or perhaps after Angelus is unleashed, you'll hesitate a moment too long and let that soulless monster kill Fred. You certainly couldn't protect her from those creatures you demanded my help in dealing with, after all._

_For the sake of the friendship we once shared? For the night when I took a bullet for you, thanks to that zombie policeman? You deserve to know the truth, Gunn. And what truth is that, you may ask?_

_Out of everyone in the group...you, your self-righteousness, your sense of entitlement and complacency in your own purity...you disgust me most of all._

_If we ever meet again, my one-time friend, I may well succumb to my desire to kill you. So for Fred's sake, it would be best if you and I never again cross paths._

_I certainly don't want to give you any chance to dig the knife even deeper, and I honestly don't know whether or not I'd shoot you on sight._

_Wesley_

__

* * *

_  
Dear Fred,_

_As I write this, I can't help thinking back to that night at the hospital, and what you said to me as I lay there unable to speak, almost unable to move..._

_“Don't come back to the hotel, ever,” you said. “It was all for nothing,” you mentioned almost in passing, before you put down that box you'd brought with you and then closed the door behind you – and on our friendship, as it were._

_Later, when I was able to examine what you'd brought to my hospital room? I was somewhat surprised – but not overly so – to learn that you had surrendered only those items that belonged to me, and which weren't...useful to Angel Investigations. Ignoring those books and artifacts that were mine, which I had paid for or brought with me from Sunnydale, because Angel could obviously make better use of them._

_Just in case you didn't realize...there's a word for that, Fred. And it's called theft._

_I can't help wondering what your parents would think of you right now, were Mr. and Mrs. Burkle to learn of your actions. Do you think they would they feel shame? Disappointment? Humiliation? Perhaps all of the above?_

_I don't know if Gunn's told you that you owe me your life, after he came to my apartment last night demanding my help to save you. After you had been infected with that parasite that was going to kill you by dehydration, I mean. Personally, I doubt it. Still, while Gunn's self-righteousness truly disgusted me, his actions were somewhat understandable...at least in one sense. After all, we males often act in a manner that is utterly reprehensible whenever a woman comes between us (or seems to, at any rate)._

_Angel's reaction I can also understand, even if I can't forgive what he did that night – offering the illusion of understanding and forgiveness, before attempting to murder me. Cordelia's choice to act as though I never existed has likewise left me feeling more than a little bitter, even if I can understand her reasons for doing so – given that deep down, she's in love with Angel, and has been for quite a while now._

_But you, Fred? The tone of your words that night, the way you too assumed you knew what happened without any understanding..._

_Do you **really** believe I was planning to give Angel's son to Holtz? I suspect so, even though I honestly don't know where you got that idea from – given that I had no intention of doing any such thing. And do you really think I 'went to Holtz' behind your back about Connor? Again, I suspect so. The fact that those meetings with Holtz and his group were to decide that I was right in planning to disappear with the baby, just before Justine surprised me...she slashed my throat open and kidnapped Connor, even though all of you seem to think I was in cahoots with that damned woman and her mentor, Angel's sworn enemy..._

_Well, as far as I can tell, the truth honestly means nothing to you. To any of you._

_Your words, your treatment of me...that hurt me worse than what Justine's knife did. Perhaps it shouldn't have, but it did, and it will likely continue to do so for some time to come._

_Unlike the others, I cannot wish direct ill upon you, Fred. I want to, but I can't bring myself to do so._

_However, neither can I forgive you – abandoning me wholesale as you did, and not wanting to hear what had actually happened. I will grant that you showed me more concern than the rest, but that's also part of the reason why you wounded me even worse than I'd imagined possible._

_It's not that you told me to never come back to the hotel, you know. It wasn't as if I was ever planning to do so, after all._

_It's the fact that you're the smartest woman I know, Fred. A scientist, someone who's supposed to be able to think clearly and rationally, someone who seeks out the truth – no matter how painful. And yet you willingly deluded yourself with a comfortable lie, you chose to believe that I was the caricature villain of the story without ever even asking me for my side of what happened that night?_

_Quite frankly, you disappoint me, Fred, as a scientist, and as a friend._

_You've come a long way since your return from Pylea, I can't deny that. And we've shared a lot in all the months we've known one another. But I can't wish you well for the future, as I'm sure all the good luck in the world won't help you once Angel dives headfirst into his next obsession. You weren't there for the last one, more's the pity._

_I'd suggest you ask Cordelia for details, but then I'm sure that love-struck fool of a woman won't want to discuss how the object of her affections willingly risked losing his soul and unleashing a monster...by having sex with a soulless monster._

_Goodbye, Fred. I truly hope we never meet again. I can't forgive you yet, and even if one day I do..._

_I'm sure it won't mean anything to you. I very much doubt it'll even mean anything to me._

_Wesley_


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Angel the Series. I don't own Stargate. I make no money, I make this for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of others.

Thanks to Starway Man, my beta-reader

Now, before we get started with the chapter, there is something I'd like to clarify: Just because a character says "XYZ", that doesn't mean I'm saying "XYZ". I am not going into, and will not say, whether or not Wesley is justified in his views as described in the previous chapter. An author's note is not the place for that. My views on the incident, like my views on most incidents in the Buffyverse, are far from black and white. 

What I will say is that my interpretation of Wesley (which I think is supported by what we all saw in the episodes of the show), at this exact moment in canon, at this precise point of season 3, is how I have written him. Justified or not, victim or not, Wesley is angry, bitter, nasty...and yes, even a little hateful, for my money.

Further, if you hate 'Wesley-is-victim' vehemently enough that you're going to leave me unfocused rants in the review box about it, then I'd suggest you stop reading this fic. Whatever Angel and his crew may think about it, Wesley is obviously going to feel himself aggrieved (that's only human). And Daniel, being Wesley's friend and having only heard that guy's side of the drama - and not knowing Wesley's (former) friends very well - is obviously going to take Wesley's side in this matter, by and large. Wesley and Daniel are the viewpoint characters for this fic, and they will continue to be the viewpoint characters for the fic, so it's their expressed viewpoints you'll be seeing.

I hate to sound like a 'like it or lump it' kind of douche - but by a certain point, if you honestly don't like what's being written that much, you should ask yourself: why am I still reading this fanfic?

And now, with all that unpleasantness out of the way, on with the fic...

Old Friends: A New Direction

By Alkeni

Chapter 7

**May 6th, 2002  
Gateroom, Stargate Command**

Daniel watched Wesley fidget slightly, as they stood at the bottom of the ramp leading up to the Stargate. Then again, Jackson supposed, anyone would be at least a little bit nervous before they stepped onto an alien planet for the first time. 

_Especially if they've never had their body ripped apart and then put back together on the other end._

It had been over a week now since the meeting in Los Angeles, and Daniel had to admit to himself; Wesley was definitely looking and sounding a lot better now that he had left that city, and his old life, behind him. Even his voice sounded less raspy and more baritone in nature; Janet had examined the man's throat and prescribed treatment and therapy to make her patient sound more like the professional scholar he truly was, and less like the creepy sort of maniac you heard talking on the phone on TV and the movies.

Even as he watched Wesley try to remain calm, Daniel smiled to himself in quiet amusement. In many ways, he enjoyed watching a new member of the SGC go through the Stargate for the very first time. It reminded him on a very emotional level just how much sheer wonder there was in what they did. Having gone through the alien portal more times than he could remember off-hand, not to mention having lived for a year on _another planet_ , Daniel knew he had internalized the Stargate as something 'normal' nowadays. 

For him, going through the Gate was the equivalent of most people's morning commute to work, or waiting for an elevator to arrive. And deep down, Dr. Jackson knew it was important to keep in mind how not everyone felt that way – and how it really wasn't that normal.

“I have to say, it does look a little more impressive up close than through the window in the control room.” Wesley told his friend, deciding to speak up.

“If you think this is impressive, just wait until you see it activate.” Daniel said with another smile. Once Wesley had reached Colorado Springs and been given a more formal briefing on 'Planet Dracula' – as Jack was insisting on calling it – Trinium and the Stargate Program in general, and once he'd passed his medical exam, General Hammond had decided that Wesley's first trip through the Gate would be to the Alpha Site. Something that Jackson heartily approved of as a safe introduction to the greater universe beyond Earth. 

Suddenly, the inner ring of the seemingly stone circle started to spin. Having expected that, Wesley didn't react much – though he did brace himself a little, Daniel saw. 

Six Chevrons engaged, Walter doing his usual announcement over the speaker system as the Gate dialed. Then his voice said over the speaker, “Chevron Seven, locked!”

The Stargate activated and 'whooshed', the so-called geyser effect appearing and then disappearing almost immediately. It was enough to startle Wesley, who took a step back. He looked over to Sam.

“What would have happened if I'd been too close to the Stargate when that happened?” 

“Simply put, whatever part of your body it touched would have been completely disintegrated. In layman's terms, what is touched gets dematerialized, just as if you went through the Gate. But you don't get stored in the buffer and so there's no chance of rematerialization, because the wormhole isn't stable enough for pattern storage. Basically, you die.” 

“It seems to me a rather risky way for the Stargate to operate.” Wesley commented noncommittally. “I take it there's no way to prevent it from happening, as an additional safety measure?”

“No, there isn't. There's no way to get around it, as far as I can tell; even if our understanding of the physics behind the Gate's operation is still somewhat limited. I guess there's a limit to how much advanced technology – even technology advanced enough to build the Stargate Network – can bend the laws of science. It's amazing how far we've come in the past five years, actually; I know a half-dozen physicists off the top of my head who would stand here and insist that something like the Stargate is impossible, even after just watching that.”

_Whereas Sam isn't denying the existence of the supernatural or its supernatural nature._ Daniel had realized now, in hindsight, just how baseless his concerns had been about his teammates' reaction to the existence of vampires (had he told them before they'd gone into the mine). He'd been concerned Sam wouldn't be willing to accept it, but in retrospect...

All right, Dr. Major Samantha Carter still insisted there had to be a way beyond simply saying 'magic' to explain the existence of Vampires and Demons and yes, even magic itself. Some rational principle that meant such things didn't break the laws of physics, biology, et cetera, as she knew them. Some sort of 'science' of magic. Both Daniel and Wesley had heard Sam admit she had no idea what such a principle was, and maybe she never would, since she'd never have the time to devote enough in the way of research to it. But she still insisted it existed.

Nonetheless, the blonde woman had also accepted all the provisos about vampires Wesley had given them, and would give them once he gave them their formal 'primer' on the things which went bump in the night, along with anyone else in the SGC General Hammond felt had a full need to know.

_I still think he should just go ahead and tell everyone about this. I mean...even more than just the SG team-members who might run across vampires on other worlds. There's vampires all over this planet, after all, anyone who works here could run into them! They should be prepared..._

But, by that logic, they should just tell everyone all over the world if the threat potential was truly that bad. Right? Why were SGC personnel so special?

Jack's predictions of mass riots, social upheaval and mobs on the streets killing anyone and everyone they suspected of being a 'demon' still didn't sit well with Daniel's view of things. But it was what it was, as much as he didn't like to think of it being like that. People were smarter nowadays, true, better educated and more willing to believe in the exotic; but it didn't take much to strip away the thin veneer of civilization and unleash the savage barbarian that still lurked within the human psyche. As a scholar, Jackson knew that his friend's pessimistic views on the matter had their own basis in reality, just as much as his own optimistic ones, however much he hated admitting that to himself.

Returning his thoughts to the here and now, Daniel looked over at Wesley. “Ready?”

“I'm not entirely sure. I'd like to think I am...” He stepped closer to the Stargate, walking up the ramp. Wesley was wearing the same BDU attire as what Daniel wore on a regular trip through the Stargate, even if the British man hadn't been allowed to carry a weapon yet. Wesley turned back to him and said, “I read the mission reports, saw the pictures, even tried to understand the physics behind the damn thing; but still, it really does look rather like a puddle of water.” 

“Well, you know what they say. Don't drink the water.” O'Neill said facetiously.

“I'm I won't...”

SG-1 followed Wesley up the ramp as the former Watcher touched the event horizon for a moment.

Then, after a brief moment to steel himself, Wesley stepped through the Stargate - and his molecules were instantly hurled far across the cosmos, to another Stargate on another world.

**May 6th, 2002  
Alpha Site**

_So this is another planet._

That was Wesley's first thought as he stepped out of the Stargate onto the soil of an alien planet.

The second thought was that he was feeling incredibly nauseous after the experience. Nearly doubling over, Wesley stumbled towards the device he recognized from the photographs as a 'DHD', one hand landing on the rim of it lightly as he fought to steady himself.

Fortunately, the sensation passed after a few more seconds, and Wesley straightened up as SG-1 stepped through.

“Does it get any easier?” Wesley asked, noticing that not one of the four-member team was showing the slightest sign of even minor distress.

“Yea, pretty much.” Colonel O'Neill told him. “Only happens the first time you go through the Gate, for just about everyone.” He smirked, “Of course, the first time Danny and I and the rest of my team went through to Abydos, we came out the other end halfway to frozen solid.” He waved a hand at Sam. “Carter could give you the technical reasons why, but it all got sorted out by the time of the second mission to Chulak, and that's what's important here.”

“I see.” Wesley looked around the planet known as 'Alpha Site' and now saw the buildings not too far from the Stargate, as well as the soldiers – no, airmen – standing near the alien ring, weapons at the ready but not pointed at any of them.

_It doesn't really **look** like another planet elsewhere in the galaxy, I must say._ Wesley looked up at the sky, blinking against the rays of the sun, then did a double-take. There was still just the one sun, but Wesley could tell that it was the wrong color. Well, the wrong shade of yellow, anyway.

That was what suddenly drove it home for the Englishman. Given his career choice and what he knew about what went bump in the night, internalizing sunrise and sunset was almost instinctive to him. The sun was safety. Knowing where it was, how he could get into its light-

Just as the presence of two suns on Pylea had proven he really had traveled to another dimension, the fact that the sun here was the wrong color...

_Well, I'm fairly sure it's still the same actual color._ Wesley thought to himself. _White Light is still White Light. The atmosphere here must be just different enough to alter how we see it, is all._

“And yet, those trees look like anything I'd see on Earth.” Wesley thought aloud, pointing off into the distance. 

“Yeah; always wondered about that, too. They look like trees you'd find in Vancouver.” O'Neill told him, sounding almost aggrieved.

“They may look like it, but they're not the same, sir.” Carter replied, and from the sound of it, it was a familiar back and forth for them. She turned to Wesley and explained for his benefit, “We have a Botanist on the base to study potential uses for various plants we come across. The Alpha Site is where she's had the most time and opportunity to study, and from what she's told me, these trees may look like the trees on Earth, and possess some functional and surface similarities, but in a lot of ways...they're very different life forms.” 

“Interesting.” Wesley said again, then he laughed at himself, “Here I am on another planet, and all I can think about is the fact that it looks so much like Earth.” 

“Most of the planets I have been to, both with SG-1 and in service to Apophis, have looked a great deal like various locations on Earth, at least on the surface. The Goa'uld preference for human hosts and slaves makes it impractical for them to use the Chappa'ai located on inhospitable worlds, WesleyWyndam-Pryce.” Teal'c explained. “When I first saw the areas of Earth which were not densely inhabited, I thought them much like the corresponding parts of Chulak.”

“It's all about frame of reference.” Wesley nodded, “Yes, I suppose that makes a great deal of sense.”

And it did, at that. Wesley walked around a little bit more. The novelty of being on another planet would probably take at least a few days to wear off. If not more. Then again, this alien world really did look so incredibly...normal. 

“So, apart from being a backup in case of cataclysm on Earth,” _Or successful apocalypse, mustn't forget that,_ “What else is done here?”

**May 7th, 2002  
Briefing Room, Stargate Command**

At long last, Wesley finally felt himself to be back in his natural element, despite the fact that he was in front of assembled airmen and officers of the United States Air Force – as well as civilian consultants, scientists and, as he understood it, a few Marines as well.

Everyone in the room had already been briefed on the basics of the existence of vampires, here on Earth and on the planet of interest – P5X-194. 

_And good Lord, don't they need to find a better name for it than that?_ Wesley understood how a computer-generated binary designation was the most efficient method in assigning planet names around here, given how many new worlds were checked out every week by the various SG-teams, but it really was rather cumbersome. Given that they were clearly going to spend a lot of time on this planet for the foreseeable future, wouldn't it make sense to give it a name? Apart from 'Planet Dracula', of course. 

Speaking of which, why hadn't Colonel O'Neill and the others asked the natives of P5X-194 what _they_ called their homeworld?

_Well, that's the military for you, isn't it? If you want something done right, most of the time you have to do it yourself..._

But still, here and now, Wesley was feeling confident that he was back where he belonged. Explaining things – if there was one thing he was good at, it was explaining things. Even despite his worst doubts, after...

After all that had happened, he'd never doubted that. It hadn't, of course, been much consolation where Connor was concerned, but here, it was critical.

“My former employers, the Watchers' Council, have a traditional miniature speech for explaining vampires to outsiders, dealing their origins and so on. To be honest, it's rather unhelpful and especially useless in this situation. So, I'll get right to the point. A Vampire is a human corpse that has been reanimated by what's traditionally known as a 'demonic spirit' of some sort. And I can tell from the expressions on your faces that a lot of you have trouble believing that, so, call it whatever you like. A parasite, some form of energy, a disease, or anything else which makes it easier to fit in with your world view. By any measure you'd care to use, though, a vampire is a dead body – one which nonetheless moves, talks and consumes the blood of the living.”

Wesley looked at the audience, many of whom indeed showed signs of disbelief, mostly at the mention of 'demonic spirit'. He pressed on regardless.

“I understand the idea of an immaterial 'demonic spirit' is somewhat hard to accept. However, according to the mission reports I've read, a few years ago the SGC encountered a number of alien entities without physical form; so think of the force animating a vampire that way, if it helps you to accept it any easier. In many ways, though, you could compare it to being under the control of a Goa'uld. They have the knowledge of the original inhabitant of the body, its personality and can adopt its mannerisms if they so wish. But they are most definitely not the original inhabitant. I've been informed that the Goa'uld claim nothing of the host survives, and that this is untrue. However, with a vampire, for all practical purposes...that is true enough.”

“I don't use the word 'Evil' lightly, but I do use it here. A vampire is evil, incarnate. It can look human when it wants to, so that fact can be easy to forget. But vampires are not human, despite the meat suit they wear. Some vampires will be more active in their malevolence than others, but no vampire has anything even remotely what we would call a conscience. In a nutshell, they hunt. They kill. And they have an overriding need to feed on blood. Almost any type of blood will do, but vampires much prefer human. It has, to put it bluntly, the best taste as far as they're concerned.”

Wesley lifted a thick book, “This tome is one of the standard texts for understanding the undead, within certain circles. And yes, that word does mean what you think it does. Still, forget what you've seen on TV and modern-day movies; several chapters within the book detail some of the worst cruelties of the most notorious vampires. Torture, rape, mass murder, and dismemberment are some of the more banal activities that vampires can get up to.” Wesley set the tome down. “I can assure you that if you read this book, afterwards you would have nightmares.” There were a few scoffs from the audience at that. 

“Yes, I can understand how that would sound to some if not most of you, especially after dealing with the Goa'uld and everything else over the past five years or so,” Wesley smiled to himself, “When I started reading this tome in detail, I thought I wouldn't have them either. But I've yet to meet even one person who hasn't suffered from nightmares, when the knowledge of what vampires can and will do is shoved directly into their face, so to speak.”

“In any case, the bottom line is this. There is no cure for vampirism, and no point trying to negotiate with one of the undead, unless you have absolutely no other choice. To a vampire, all you are is a source of food, just as all you are to a Goa'uld is a slave, a host or an enemy to be killed. And that applies even if a vampire wears the face of someone you know.”

Wesley's tone darkened, “This above all; even if you knew the vampire in life – be it a friend, a family member, or even a loved one – you must accept that the person you knew is dead, and act accordingly. The creature now wearing that person's face is a soulless monster, concerned only with its own gratification and dealing out as much misery as it can while fulfilling its desires, usually centering around blood.” Wesley's mind briefly wandered to an old school friend of his, who had been turned...

Slaying it had been one of his two 'controlled circumstances' encounter with vampires. 

It had been much harder than the man he'd been then had wanted to admit, and Wes knew his father had seen his hesitation and once more judged him weak for it.

“This is interesting and all, but I think the bigger question is – how do we kill them?” One of the officers, a lieutenant, asked from the left side of the assembled audience.

“The established methods of killing a vampire are pretty much what you might expect, if you've any familiarity with the legends. The most effective is direct exposure to sunlight; but getting a vampire to cooperate with that is difficult, to put it mildly. Much like asking a reasonably aware human to dive head first into a vat of acid. Fire is exceedingly useful, and Colonel O'Neill's somewhat flippant suggestion of flamethrowers is not without merit, even if that option would only work in certain situations.”

“Actually, I was completely serious with that suggestion.” O'Neill interrupted, and Wesley inclined his head at the Colonel.

“Alright. But my point remains that such a weapon would only be effective depending on the combat conditions. Vampires are actually much more flammable than a human – once they're exposed to a large enough and steady enough flame, they are in fact quite likely to collapse into dust completely.”

“In more practical terms, a vampire will be exterminated if you behead them or drive a sharp piece of wood into their hearts.” Wesley lifted up a stake, “Something such as this, or a sharpened wood crossbow bolt. However, getting into close combat with a vampire one-on-one is not recommended. And as for the reason why...”

Wesley looked out at the airmen and Marines in the audience. “How many of you here have engaged Mr. Teal'c in some of physical contest?” Almost every person in the room raised their hands. “How many of you have managed to defeat him in a contest that came down to physical strength or reaction times?” Every single hand went down, except for Colonel O'Neill's. Then after a moment, he too dropped his hand down to his lap. _I wonder what that's all about?_

“I see. Well, my point is, even the weakest and youngest vampire vampire is at least as strong as Mr. Teal'c, and vampires only get stronger and faster as they get older. Combine that with an ability to simply shrug off most injuries...” Wesley shrugged.

“If you are forced into close quarters combat with a vampire, your best option, if escape isn't practical, is to somehow use its strength against it if possible. That's where knowledge of the martial arts comes in. Most vampires lack any formal training in combat, though from what I understand of P5X-194's undead, that may not hold true. In any case, many are arrogant and sloppy in combat due to their physical superiority.” Wesley put the stake down. “Keep in mind that a vampire will always have the edge, physically, over a human. Keeping your distance is the best option. A normal firearm will not kill a vampire, but if you fill one with enough bullets – especially larger caliber ones – you _will_ slow them down and potentially weaken them enough to make escape or killing them much easier. Incendiary bullets _should_ be lethal, even if I've yet to see such ordnance used on a vampire myself. Either way, the best places to aim are the knees and the head. The brain is still human, even if the inner demon is controlling it; so a bullet through the skull will stun even the hardiest vampire for at least several seconds.”

Wesley picked up a small vial, “Holy Water – genuine holy water from a church or place of worship, blessed by a genuine consecrated priest, cleric or other religious leader – will burn a vampire, and if you can trick one into drinking it, or somehow immerse them in it, you can slay the undead with it. Such methods are hardly reliable, but when you're fighting for your life against one of these things, anything that might work is better than nothing. The same holds true for a cross. A cross – or indeed, a holy symbol from any major religion – can ward off a vampire. I don't know the scientific reason behind this phenomenon, all I know is that it works. Granted, it's far from foolproof, and the stronger or simply more determined vampires will not be held back by such a religious icon for long. But I highly recommend that you all wear a crucifix, or a Star of David, an Islamic Crescent or what have you, around your necks from now on. This 'Symbol of the Scythe' from P5X-194 also sounds like it will work, even if I can't verify that personally just yet.”

“What about long-term solutions?” This time it was a Marine Major asking the question. “Even if we clear them out of the mine, the rest of the planet's still crawling with the damn things, right?”

“From what SG-1 has informed me, most likely, yes. And while I don't have a perfect answer for you without first examining the situation on-site, I can provide the basics. Avoid and evade; a vampire lacks a pulse, and due to its aversion to sunlight, is almost always extremely pale, assuming they're of Caucasian extraction, so you should be able to quickly guess whether fight or flight is necessary. Out in the open, you should be suspicious of anyone, and I do mean _anyone_ roaming out and about at night.” Wesley took a breath and then continued. “Like the mythology says, no vampire casts a reflection in the mirror. Again, I can't give you any rational explanation why; it's just a matter of observed fact. So while cumbersome, setting up mirrors or reflective surfaces to check for people that don't show up in them is probably the most cost-effective security measure.”

Wesley took a moment to pause. “It will take some time for perfect methods of detecting and combating vampires off-world to be developed. But then, the same was necessary for off-world combat methods against the Jaffa, did it not? I cannot and will not guarantee that none of you will die on P5X-194 thanks to the presence of those creatures, and unless a method of eliminating every single vampire on the planet is developed, it will always be necessary to guard against them. Just keep in mind that, despite how unbelievable it all sounds, nothing of what I've told you is a lie or an exaggeration; so if you get yourselves killed by refusing to believe what you've heard in this briefing session, then that's entirely your own fault as far as I'm concerned.”

**May 7th, 2002  
Daniel's Apartment, Colorado Springs**

Wesley sipped at his cup of Earl Grey tea lightly, sitting across the table from Daniel. He had already begun to search for his own apartment, but until he finally found a place of his own, he was still crashing on Daniel's fold out couch. 

“So, how do you think the briefing went this afternoon?” Wesley asked. “I didn't get the impression I really got through to them. Not most of them, anyway; and not deep down where it matters, as it were.”

Daniel shrugged, “That's understandable, I guess. Those people haven't _seen_ vampires up close and personal yet, like we have. I mean, they certainly believe that there's _something_ there on P5X-194. And everyone at the SGC has been through enough with the Goa'uld and the other alien species we've run into over the years, that they'll even take what you said as reasonable truth. Most of it, anyway. But...” Daniel shook his head, “To use an analogy? I don't think anyone has ever really, truly believed what they're told about the Stargate Program, until they actually go through the Gate themselves for the first time. Same applies with encountering and dealing with vampires.”

Daniel sipped at his coffee – this late in the evening, it was decaf. “As for the quality of your lecture, and how you handled the questions afterward...” Daniel shrugged, “You did about as well as I usually do, when Sam and I give the introductory lecture for new appointees at the SGC. You had to deal with more smart-ass questions than I usually do, but I don't think you embarrassed yourself in any way; the dour, no-nonsense attitude helped with that. The fact that you're my friend and I've vouched for you also counts for a lot with most of them. But still, it's going to take some time for them to really, truly believe. Probably some dead bodies as well, unfortunately.”

“You're probably right.” Wesley granted. “So,” He said, changing the subject, “General Hammond approved a return to the planet for the day after tomorrow?”

Daniel nodded, “He did. He even agreed to send a M.A.L.P. Carrying some flamethrowers with us, in case we end up going back into the mine with them.”

“That has to be the most...inelegant method of defeating a horde of vampires I've ever come across.” Wesley confessed, “I'll admit a part of me is arguing they shouldn't be used, but such a weapon does make a great deal of sense under these conditions. Given the level of technology involved, the element of surprise will probably be a major factor in its success.” Wesley shrugged, “I'll probably want to check out the mine at some point; but the most important thing, I think, is to speak with this 'Sister Agata' and the other man, Jaresh. I want to know everything they know about the vampires on their world. From what you've said, they sound a great deal more feral than the vampires here on Earth.”

“Yea, well, they certainly weren't trying to blend in with human society, or lure their food away from the rest of the crowd.” Daniel agreed. “I figured part of that was because...well, it's hard to blend in with your dinner when, as far as I can tell, their entire way of life is built around keeping Vampires at bay.”

“This is true.” Wesley granted. “Still...I suspect the feralness may well be from blood deprivation, at least in part. A vampire can survive a very long time without blood, but the longer they go without it, the worse the damage to the higher brain functions. And if the locals are as clever as I think they are, then as environmentally unsound as it is...they'll have killed as much of the local wildlife as possible that the vampires might drink the blood of.” 

Daniel winced. The thought of deliberately making species extinct, or as close as you could get, merely to starve the vampires to death...

“I'm not sure if we're better or worse off here on Earth, to be honest with you.” Daniel said after a moment, “I mean yes, people here die of vampire attacks, blissfully ignorant until the bitter end...but all the sacrifices and safeguards they've made there...those people wouldn't have much of a life beyond dealing with the vampires, would they?”

“Quite possibly not.” Wesley agreed. “On the other hand, they probably suffer less deaths, proportionately, to vampires, demons and the other forces of darkness than we do here on this planet...and on a very basic level, life is what matters, Daniel. Evolution is survival of the fittest, and it sounds like human life there evolved to survive the only way it could.”

“I suppose so.” Daniel said after a moment. Then he got up, heading for the kitchen to place his empty mug of coffee in the sink. “We should probably get an early night's sleep; tomorrow will a very busy day, I suspect.”

“Agreed.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Angel, I don't own Stargate SG-1.

Thanks to Starway Man, my beta-reader

I'd like to thank my long-time sponsor, caffeine, for this chapter. I'd also like to thank my new sponsor (cheap caffeine) as well, without whom this chapter would not yet have been released.

I've mentioned in a few of my fics before that I have a tumblr semi-dedicated to my Fanfics, with occasional writing updates, chapter excerpts and meta-discussion of my fics, the fandoms and themes in fanficdom of the given fandom(s). It fell into disuse for a while, but its back in action. If anyone is interested, it is at alkenifanfiction . Tumblr . Com (without the extraneous spaces, obviously)

On there, you can find a full discussion (well, fullish) of my views on 'Wesley as Victim' in the reality of the canon (rather than what I think Wesley thinks of himself) and a bit on the whole 'Straw Skeptic Sam Carter' phenomenon in Buffyverse/Stargate-verse crossovers.

Old Friends: A New Direction

By Alkeni

Chapter 8

**May 9th, 2002  
Tellis, P5X-194**

“You return.” Agata said as the outworlders walked into the Hall of the High Powers, guided once again by Jaresh. “I wondered if you would.” She looked at them, the way she walked still making it look as though she was floating. “And you have brought another with you.”

Daniel nodded. “We have. Sister Agata, this is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.” He gestured from Wesley to Agata. “Wes, this is Sister Agata, the Voice of the High Powers.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Sister Agata.” Wesley said softly, looking the alien woman directly in the eye. 

Agata nodded to him, “I welcome you to Tellis, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. Give me your hand.” The shift in tone, from soft and airy to one that, while still airy, held a note of command was almost a little jarring. 

Nonetheless, Wesley obeyed without debate. Holding it firmly in her own, the way she had with Daniel some days before, Agata spoke after a few moments, “Your injuries will be eventually be headed, Scholar. The High Powers have a plan for us all, and they can eventually restore all to what it should be, given world enough and time.”

“That is...feasible, perhaps.” Wesley muttered, trying to repress the note of sudden anger in his voice. 

“You do not agree?” Agata didn't seem offended by his attitude. 

“If the entities you refer to as the High Powers are the same as the higher beings which I know of...” Wesley considered his words for a moment, and Daniel wondered what was going through his friend's mind. “Well. Let's just say that their benevolence has not been...universal, in my life and in the lives of those close to me, and leave it at that.”

“In my experience, the High Powers act in their own manner and for their own reasons. All we can do is accept their gifts and use them as we see fit.” Agata returned softly. “Why have you come here, to this world? Are you here for the Trinium, as Daniel and his friends are?” From her tone, she didn't seem to believe the answer to her question was yes.

“Not exactly.” Wesley replied. “I'm here in no small part indirectly because of the Trinium, but it is the Nightwalkers themselves that I am concerned with.”

“I see.” Agata released Wesley's hand, and he took it back, slipping it into his pocket. Agata watched Wesley's gaze move around the large chamber, eyes falling on the tapestries containing images of the warrior women. Daniel saw his friend's eyes widen at some of them.

_Now, why's he doing that...?_

“May I ask why it is that the Nightwalkers draw you here? They are a danger to be avoided, after all, not a prize to be sought after.” Sister Agata added softly. 

Wesley turned from the tapestry he'd been looking at and back over to Agata, then he gestured to Jaresh. “Please correct me if I am mistaken, but Jaresh here goes seeking Nightwalkers. Those alone, or asleep in their hideaways, but he still goes seeking them.”

“It is my duty, as Lord Defender, to protect the people at the risk of my own life.” Jaresh replied tersely. “It is not an obligation I particularly relish, but still a responsibility that must be carried out.”

“The fight against the forces of darkness is rarely a job to be relished, I agree.” Wesley replied. “But it is one that I engaged in on my own world as well.” He paused. “Earth does in fact have its own Nightwalkers, though this is not a fact which is widely known.”

Agata looked at Wes in astonishment, as if she couldn't understand what he'd just said. “If that is true, how is it possible that your planet has any human life at all? If any of our people ceases to follow the ways of protection, which have been handed down through the generations, then they fall prey to the Nightwalkers within one or two seasons. Often times even less.”

“The, ah, Nightwalkers...we call them vampires on my world...they're far less feral than yours. They are capable of blending into human society, and they often act to preserve that status. To maintain the secret they limit their feeding and killing, generally speaking. And there are those who stand against the undead, such as myself.” He gestured to the tapestries. “Which brings me to my next question. Who are these women? Do they depict specific people of your past?”

The abrupt change in topic somewhat threw Agata, Jaresh and Daniel, but after a moment, the female Voice answered. “Unfortunately no. They represent a woman of legend, a Promised One. A warrior that will one day come through the Great Ring, to carve a swath through the Nightwalkers that will be felt for generations to come. The High Powers promised our ancestors that she would eventually come to help us.”

“I would disagree, the Promised One – otherwise known as the Sacred Warrior – is a myth. She is not real. Merely a story our ancestors created, to give themselves hope that the Nightwalkers would not kill them all.” Jaresh said. “Most of us believe that if she truly were to come, she would have done so by now.”

“The High Powers' information has never proven to be false before, Jaresh.” Agata scolded him. “This too will come to pass. So long as we keep the Great Ring open and unburied, one day the Sacred Warrior will come. She _will_ come, Jaresh.”

“Well, I'd say it's certainly possible. Because if I understand you correctly, you're talking about the Vampire Slayer.” Wesley said after a moment. Agata, Jaresh and Daniel all looked at him, shock on their faces, albeit for different reasons. Looking at them, he explained for the two natives. “The Slayer is a young woman, chosen by the Powers That Be, or fate, or something, to fight the vampires on Earth. When one falls, another takes her place, somewhere else on my world. Her strength, speed and senses can be equal to that of even some of the oldest vampires – Nightwalkers, by your parlance.” 

“This 'Slayer' you speak of – the Sacred Warrior – she truly is real?” Jaresh still sounded skeptical.

“She is indeed. I've met two of them, actually.” Wesley told the other vampire hunter. “While I would not ascribe to them the status of...sanctity, as do you, a Slayer is nonetheless a formidable warrior, more than capable of slaying many vampires in battle.”

“I believe you. But – if there is only one on your world at any time, then the Sacred Warrior cannot come to us.” Agata said after a moment, looking crestfallen, “I would not rob your world of its protector in favor of my own.”

“I would, perhaps.” Jaresh muttered, but then added a soft 'sorry' upon a steely-eyed glare from Agata.

“This is possibly true.” Wesley granted, although Daniel noticed the slightest...something in his friend's words. “If there is one thing I am certain of, none of us can be sure what the future may hold. But your Promised One _does_ exist. That much I can assure you is true.” Wesley turned away from the tapestries and back to Agata and Jaresh. 

“In any case, we've drifted away from the previous topic. I think I should like to spend some more time speaking with the two of you, in regards to the Nightwalkers, and the way your people have developed their way of life, your techniques for fighting them and resisting their encroachments. I take it I'm correct in assuming you have driven most animal life in the immediate vicinity into death or flight?” Wesley raised an eyebrow.

After a moment, Agata nodded. “It is far from a complete process...but to our shame, it was a technique that proved very effective in the early days, before our defenses and organization were sophisticated enough...”

“Even now, if enough animals were to come back to near our lands, we'd need to kill them. We cannot afford to have the Nightwalkers well-fed, Agata.” Jaresh countered, and once more, there was a note of the familiar argument between the two. Probably common threads across the world.

“We will likely never know, Jaresh.” Agata pointed out. 

“Actually, I'm afraid that I have to agree with Jaresh.” Wesley said softly. “From everything I've heard, the low-food supplies of your vampires is what makes them so feral – incapable of higher thought, and so unable to blend into your society in order to feed and kill from within the shadows. Your people would still be able to better resist such vampires than many on my world – but your losses would sharply increase, I believe.” 

“Mayhap you are right. That doesn't make the happening of it a happy one.” Agata replied sadly. “Murder of any kind is never a good thing.” 

“I think we can all agree with that.” Daniel interjected, speaking for the first time in a while. “Wesley is our expert on the Nightwalkers. If we are to make a trade to work the Trinium mine, we will need the capacity to defend it.”

“I was hoping to take in the lay of the mine tomorrow.” Wesley told them. “We've brought some weapons with us that should make fighting the Nightwalkers much easier. I think it might be productive if you were to come with us, Jaresh.”

“Going into the mine is a dangerous risk I see no reason to undertake.” Jaresh replied. “No matter what your weapons.”

“We brought flamethrowers, Jaresh.” Daniel said. “I think you can guess their function from the name.” Daniel had grown to respect the ingenuity and capacity to understand advanced technology of the more primitive worlds they came upon. Still, the people of P5X-194 – which apparently had no name other than 'here' or 'this place', according to the natives they'd talked to – were even more so than most.

Jaresh nodded after a moment. “I suppose I can at that.” There seemed to be an almost...covetous look in Jaresh's eyes at the idea of a weapon that could 'throw flame'. Daniel wasn't sure he liked seeing it – and wondered if the 'Lord Defender' would want such weapons in trade for access to the Trinium mine.

_We don't arm the people of other worlds. It's SGC policy, and it's a damn good one._ But would the presence of Trinium convince someone at the Pentagon, or even the White House, to change that policy? Especially given the...other circumstances pertaining to this world? And if they changed it here...

_I hate to use the words 'slippery slope'...but they could definitely fit here, no doubt about it._

“I want to see the weapons demonstrated in some fashion before I agree to go into the mine. Still, I will admit I am intrigued.” Jaresh looked out the window into the afternoon light, out onto Tellis. “In the mean time, however, you are welcome to stay in Tellis, behind the threshold of a residence.”

“They can stay here.” Agata told him. “The Hall has sufficient spare beds, often reserved for traveling warriors. And what are they if not traveling warriors, in a fashion?”

“I'll have to talk to Jack, but I think he'll be fine with that.” Daniel said, gesturing to Wesley to follow him. “Thank you, Sister Agata.”

**May 9th, 2002  
Tellis, P5X-194**

While Daniel and Wesley were inside the Hall of the High Powers, Jack, Sam and Teal'c had stayed outside. Neither Teal'c nor Sam were all that surprised by the Colonel's order to hang back.

“So, it's verdict time, I think.” Jack said after a moment. “What do we think of Wesley?”

“He is a determined fighter, one who will serve the SGC well.” Teal'c said with his trademark stoicism. “Either in combat, or with the knowledge of his mind.”

“From what I've seen, Colonel, Wesley's not quite as good as Daniel with a pistol – at least not against human-shaped targets that aren't meant to be vampires.” Sam commented, then clarified. “But he's a lot better than most of the civilian consultants when they start out, and his actual hand-eye coordination is off the charts. Daniel's just got more experience with the weapons we take on off-world missions, and that pays off for him. And he's just as smart as Daniel is, I'm pretty sure of that.” She frowned “Not as...curious as Daniel, though, in a lot of ways.” There was more than just 'curiosity' contained in her words, though she wasn't quite sure how to get them out in the best way. Because Sam herself wasn't entirely sure what she meant.

Even this long into the program, Daniel still retained a certain sense of wonder – she felt it too, from time to time, but Daniel had her beat by miles. Every new culture, every new script, every artifact that passed across his desk – they were a treat for Jackson, some new puzzle to be solved. 

She'd only been around Wesley a little bit, granted, but she saw much less of that in the British man. She saw hints of it, and from what Daniel had told her of his and Wesley's earlier friendship at Oxford, he'd obviously had once had a lot more of it. 

But from what she could tell, Pryce was...harder, now. Like some her fellow soldiers at the SGC, who came out of years of combat much, much harder men. Not to the same degree, but definitely the same kind. When she'd watched Wesley at the shooting range – well, he'd actually come across as a dangerous man. Something she'd never really picked up from Daniel, no matter that he'd grown to be quite effective in a fight.

“That's not what I meant.” Jack pointed out. 

“He has the trust of DanielJackson.” Teal'c pointed out simply. 

“Yeah, and normally that'd be good enough for me, but Daniel has been wrong before. Once in a while.” Jack pointed out. “Okay, fine; I'll admit that counts for a lot with me as well. But Hammond wants input from the rest of us, too – like, do we recommend Wesley for a slot on an SG-Team after this, or not? Is he going to be able to deal with that?” Even as he said that, Colonel O'Neill figured he honestly wasn't sure if that was an option. Certainly on his skills alone, Wesley would be an excellent asset to any team that got him. But it was more than just skills – working on an SG-Team required the right mindset.

Including the ability to trust your team members with your life – and for your team to trust you with theirs. Personally, Jack wasn't certain if Wesley would be able to trust anyone that way anytime soon. He'd seen men and women acting the way the Englishman did before; and while O'Neill didn't know what had gone down with Wesley and his friends in Los Angeles, he could tell it had affected Wesley deeply.

“In my opinion, sir, he won't be able to just slip into an SG-Team like some of the civilians that get brought into Stargate Command – Wesley's simply not used to the environment.” Sam pointed out. “And I think he'll have some trouble being a team player for a while.” Though Major Carter didn't know it, she was echoing Jack's thoughts of moments before. “All things considered, though, if he wants to join one of the SG-Teams – well, I don't think it'll take Wesley long to get over his current issues. There's really only one way to find out either way, anyway.”

“This is true.” Teal'c agreed. “The only way we will have any ability to judge WesleyWyndamPryce's fitness will be to see him in action. I reserve final judgment until then.”

“That's kind of where I was going too, T.” O'Neill agreed. “All right, then. I guess we'll see after we check out the mine. Again.” He let out a long, slow breath. He _really_ wasn't looking forward to going back down there.

**May 10th, 2002  
Trinium Mine, P5X-194**

To say that Jaresh had been...impressed by the brief demonstration of the flamethrowers earlier that morning would be something of an understatement. The Lord Defender had been all but hypnotized by the way the weapons worked. Daniel hadn't missed the latest covetous look that had passed across the man's face after Teal'c had demonstrated how the weapon functioned, either.

Indeed, along the way towards the mine, Jaresh had asked numerous questions regarding the flamethrowers, how they worked, and what it would take for his people to reproduce them, or something like them. He'd been directed to Sam, who'd done her best to stress the potential dangers of such weapons – how unstable they could be, for example – and provided general answers. She hadn't lied, so far as Daniel could tell – and he doubted she would have anyway, especially given that the Trinium was simply too important to upset Jaresh and his people that way.

But they'd gotten to the mine without incident – unsurprising, given the bright sun in the sky – and now here they were.

“You ready, Teal'c?” Jack asked the Jaffa.

“I am.” Teal'c carefully began to turn the flamethrower on. The SGC had had a few on hand, even though the United States military had largely abandoned the use of such weapons back in (Daniel thought) the 1970s. Given the...odd things the SGC came up against, though, Hammond had apparently had a dozen stashed in the base's armory, as a 'just-in-case-we-need-it' contingency plan. 

_And I suppose we did, as it turns out._

“Now, I've never actually seen one of these used in action against a pack of vampires.” Wesley admitted. “I have used a lighter and an aerosol can of hairspray, but the scales are rather different in both ends.” He nodded to Sam and Jack, who had their P-90s at the ready. “You'll want to shoot at the vampires as well with those weapons, to keep them off of Teal'c.”

“Headshots and kneecaps?” Jack offered.

“If you can aim well enough against mobile targets, those are the best spots.” Wesley agreed, unsurprised that the Colonel had taken his words of a few days before to mind. “Even feral vampires aren't stupid. They're not going to charge in head-long against someone that can burn them to a crisp from a distance, at least not after the first few have been eliminated that way. They'll scatter and spread throughout the mine. Going in after them would be...”

He paused, briefly. “Ill-advised, at least not without greater numbers and other equipment.” Wesley finished.

Jaresh nodded. “If you give them the chance, they'll attempt to ambush you, flamethrower or not. For the long term, I'd suggest starving them.”

“Yes, but unfortunately, that would take far too long. If the flamethrowers work as well as I suspect they will, there are a number of other innovations...as well as some other ideas I can think of, which will allow us to chase off the vampires and keep them out once mining operations are established...” Wesley trained off, frowning as he said that, as if he didn't like his own thoughts.

“Wanna share with the rest of the class?” Jack offered, checking one more time – not that he needed to – that his P-90 was loaded.

“Not as such, no. Or at least not yet.” Wesley replied. He saw the look on O'Neill's face, and took a brief breath. “It's not out of an effort to be mysterious, Colonel. Rather because this particular idea is one I'd very much prefer not to suggest, and I'm rather hoping this sortie goes so utterly well that I won't need to suggest it.” Wesley gestured to the mine entrance. “Shall we?”

“Alright.” Jack said after a moment. “Teal'c, you have point.” The Jaffa nodded and went into the mine – behind him a few feet and on either side were Sam and Jack. Wesley, a stake in one hand and a pistol in the other, was behind them, alongside a similarly armed Daniel and Jaresh took up the rear, holding his crossbow. 

“I feel I should mention that I'm convinced enough to watch what happens, but I still think that all this is a rather insane plan.” Jaresh murmured. 

“We've blown up a sun.” Daniel replied. “We blew up two Goa'uld motherships from the inside. They,” Daniel gestured to the other three members of SG-1, “Crashed a replicator-infected ship while they were on it. Into the _ocean_.” Despite himself, Daniel laughed for a second. “Insane plans is half of what we do.”

Jaresh raised an eyebrow, then looked to Wesley, who just shrugged.

“Yes, well, I can't deny I've been part of my own share of insane plans.” Wesley admitted. 

_Granted, only a few of them were actually **my** insane plans, and many of them didn't actually work out in the end..._

_Like stealing Angel's son..._

Wesley forced that thought away – luckily, for the moment, he was able to do that much. It wouldn't stay absent from his mind for long, though, he knew from grim experience. He'd pick the thought up again and run with it – follow it down, down, down the rabbit hole of his inner thoughts and doubts, second-guess himself, map out every other scenario – and watch each one end up in just as much disaster...

Before Wesley could think any more on that, he heard two things almost simultaneously – the familiar snarl of angry vampires about to attack, and the sound of the flamethrower lighting up.

Wesley watched from his position as the clustered horde of vampires – apparently thinking the lack of a staff weapon made them safe – got a face full of fire. He couldn't help but smirk to himself upon hearing the screams of pain, as the undead were engulfed by the flames and crumbled into dust moments later. 

Proving his point about vampires not being stupid, they immediately fell back and began to try other tactics. They tried to move around the flames, but Teal'c moved the end of the nozzle, spraying the mineshaft, and well-aimed shots from Major Carter and Colonel O'Neill made the task even more impossible.

Once all was said and done, Wes figured it probably took two minutes (at the most) for the vampires to give up and run away. Run away deep into the mine and away from the deadly weapon that their blood starved minds couldn't even remotely comprehend, most likely.

Wesley couldn't make an accurate estimate as to how many of the soulless demons had actually collapsed to dust, and how many had managed to limp away, covered with burns and probably doomed anyway. And how many might, if given time and blood, might recover.

_In some ways, we've helped the prospects of the vampires that are left. I suspect there can't be too many of them left in the mine – there's only so many of the undead that can survive in a place like this, with such limited food supplies – but the lack of competition might actually help the survivors. Darwinian selection, and all that._

Of course, Wesley wasn't prepared to lay money on that – and he suddenly realized that if this planet had burrowing or subterranean animals that were at least partially compatible with a vampire's diet, his estimates on the number of remaining vampires could be noticeably off.

_It's a brand new environment in which to study the undead, and I have neither the manpower nor the time to take full advantage of that._ Wesley wished he had at least a half-dozen assistants, a grant from the Council and roughly the next year or so to undertake such a study. Still, even assuming he ended up in a purely research role with the SGC – something which a part of him was actually in favor of – Wes doubted they'd let him simply live here on P5X-194, and devote all his time to studying the differences between vampires on this planet and those on Earth.

_Now I suppose I know how Daniel feels._ The archeologist had told him of several planets he'd so very much wanted to spend more time on – but what with limited resources, and the sheer number of planets throughout the galaxy, the SGC just couldn't spend more than a few days on most worlds they visited, no matter how fascinating they could be.

_Take all the notes you can, record whatever you have time and space for, and try not to despair over what you can't get a hold of._

That had been Daniel's advice, and Wesley found himself wishing he'd had the presence of mind to bring a video-camera, or even a dictaphone. But he hadn't, and by now, it was too late. The vampires were gone, and Teal'c had already stopped firing the flamethrower at them. 

“Alright, everybody!” Jack called out over the still audible screams and hisses of the fleeing vampires. “Out! Now!” He gestured toward the entrance to the mine and everyone quickly left, though in much better order than had likely happened when SG-1 first fled them.

Once they were all outside and safely in the sunlight, Teal'c divested himself – again, very carefully – of the flamethrower and Jack handed him a canteen, which the Jaffa emptied in a few quick gulps. 

“So,” Jack said after a moment, “Verdicts? Myself, I'm going with 'vampires, extra crispy'.”

“Assuming I understand your meaning correctly, I must agree.” Jaresh said, with a look of sheer wonder on his face. Wes could easily perceive how the native vampire hunter's entire world view must have been irrevocably altered just now, but wisely remained silent.

“The weapon's effectiveness has been proven.” Teal'c nodded. “I would advise using staff weapons and wooden stakes as a follow-up, upon pursuing the enemy in future engagements.” He paused, as if getting his head around the odd sentence he'd just uttered.

“I agree. Sir, given our superior firepower and with the right tactics, I think we can clear the hostiles out and commence mining operations here. Well, eventually.” Sam said to Jack. Unconsciously, her hand went up to where she'd been bitten. “Granted, we're still taking all kinds of risks...” She shrugged, “But if we tried to avoid risk, then we'd never have activated the Gate in the first place.” She shrugged.

“You already know my vote.” Daniel added. He looked over to Wesley, “Looks like we're on for starting up production of Trinium from the mine.” 

“But not quickly, not simply.” Wesley replied, looking briefly pained. “The flamethrower didn't work well enough for that.” 

Daniel shrugged and turned to Jaresh, “How soon would you like to start the negotiations?” 

Wesley interrupted before the native of P5X-194 could say anything. “There's one thing I'd like to suggest first, as a potential long-term aid to the vampire problem on this world.” He looked to Colonel O'Neill – and then reluctantly, wishing he'd never gotten the damned idea in the first place, he said, “However, before I get into that, there's a question I must ask. Just how badly does the United States military want this Trinium located here?” _Because this idea requires would require approval all the way to the President's office..._


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** Own it, I do not. Agata and Jaresh and Tellis, yes, I own.

Thanks to Starway Man, my beta-reader 

Please note this is the penultimate chapter of Old Friends: A New Direction

Old Friends: A New Directions 

By Alkeni 

Chapter 9

**May 11th, 2002  
Briefing Room, Stargate Command**

“Now then, Daniel told me that he'd enlightened you about the Slayer, correct?” Wesley asked SG-1 and General Hammond, as they all sat around the briefing room table. 

“Yea, he told us about that. What he knew, which wasn't all that much.” Jack replied, an odd glint appearing in his eye. “But hey; now that you're bringing it up, Wesley, let's talk about the Slayer-” 

Wesley held up a hand, interrupting Colonel O'Neill with a cold look on his face. “If you're planning to offer moral outrage at the concept and nature of the Slayer, please spare me the upcoming posturing and theatrics. The Council didn't create the Slayer, and I certainly didn't either. Truth be told, I'm not especially thrilled at the idea of a teenage girl being thrust into the fight against her will – and then being all that stands between the world and apocalypse.” _Especially not being all that stands between the world and apocalypse._ “And it's not my job to sit here and defend everything the Council does, especially when it comes to Slayers. Truthfully, I have neither the interest nor the ability to do so.” 

Nonetheless, Jack glared at Wes heatedly. “You're – alright, you _were_ – sending _kids_ to fight against these monsters!” 

“Must we do this? Very well, I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything different. But the fact is, Colonel, fifteen year-olds are considered 'children' by modern standards – because modern human society decided, somewhat arbitrarily, to set eighteen as the age of maturity. For much of human history, though, fifteen was old enough to be considered an adult, to marry and have children of your own, even take up arms for your community. Well, depending on exactly where and when you lived, of course.” Wesley pointed out. 

“This isn't 'much of human history', Wesley!” Jack countered, “This is now! Not the Dark Ages, not the Middle Ages, not even the Stone Age for cryin' out loud! I don't care what happened back then, that's irrelevant-”

“No. You are one hundred percent _wrong_ there, Colonel. Because the magic that powers the Slayer line is so old that no one knows when exactly it was created.” Wesley interrupted, glaring right back at the military man. “The best estimate is before human civilization ever began. Long before the Stone Age you just mentioned even ended. And it might interest you to know that over the years, the Council has in fact tried to meddle with that magic in various ways. Hardly for 'noble' reasons, of course. However, nothing ever worked and they've long since stopped, for fear of damaging the spell and eliminating the Slayer altogether.” Wesley paused a moment for a quick breath. 

Before either Wesley or Jack could say anything further, Sam interrupted. 

“Colonel, I'm not exactly thrilled about this either, you know that. But it isn't Wesley's fault, so berating him isn't going to help anyone. And if there's nothing we can do about it-” 

“Maybe nothing we can do about it.” Jack cut her off, frowning, then looked to Hammond. “Sir, why isn't the U.S. military helping her? You said the NID has those demon-hunting teams...” 

“Yes, it does.” Hammond agreed. “But...well, I don't know all the details, granted. But the current Slayer, a Miss Summers, had a series of bad experiences with the Initiative. It's been the estimate of the United States Government that she'd not react well to further involvement by the military in her operations within Sunnydale.” 

“Lovely. The NID finds new ways to fuck things up every way you turn.” Jack muttered. 

“From what little I myself have heard about it,” Wesley offered, “'Fuck things up', may well be quite the understatement.” He took another breath, “But then, Buffy Summers is not the _only_ current Slayer.” 

Jack, Sam and Daniel all did double-takes. 

“Buffy?” Sam was the first to speak. “I'm sorry, the Slayer's name is Buffy? That's her actual name, and – and not a nickname?” 

“Her mother really did name her that, yes.” Wesley nodded, shrugging slightly. “Well, I suppose that's southern California for you. And Miss Summers rather does look like the name would suggest – short, unassuming, blonde, has a tendency to act unserious and unconcerned. Imagine the stereotypical valley girl on television, and you get the gist – or at least, that's the persona she usually uses.” He frowned, “She's a difficult girl to manage, as I learned during my brief stint as her Watcher.” 

“You were Bu-Buf-” Jack couldn't help but laugh a little, and then started again, “Sorry. You were this girl's Watcher?” Jack asked. 

“For a few months, yes. Well, in theory. In practice, she ignored me and remained responsive to her previous Watcher, Rupert Giles.” Wesley frowned. “But that's not the issue on hand. Because I was the Watcher to another Slayer at the same time.” 

“I was under the impression that there could only be one Slayer at a time.” Teal'c offered, raising an eyebrow. 

“As a general rule, yes. But death can be...fuzzier than it might seem, at first glance. People can be 'technically dead' and still brought back to life, correct?” He looked to Sam, who had to nod. “Well, that's what happened to Buffy Summers. When she was sixteen years old a vampire bested her and then threw her into a pool of water, and she drowned. She was technically dead for at least a minute, apparently, before one of her friends performed CPR on her and brought that girl back to life. Thus, two Slayers in the world at the same time. ” 

Wesley paused, frowning. “In the past, it's happened at least once or twice to other Slayers. During the last days of ancient Greece, if I recall correctly, a fisherman diver did the exact same thing, resurrecting the Chosen One of that time.” 

“Okay, putting all that aside for the moment, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce – where is this 'other' Slayer? What's her name?” Hammond asked, trying to keep the topic of the conversation on track. 

“With regards to the 'where', she's currently serving a prison sentence for second degree murder in the Northern California Women's Facility.” Wesley replied. “Her name is Faith Lehane, and under normal circumstances, I'd be quite content to let her stay where she is. But...well, your government _does_ want to get its hands on this Trinium, no?” 

“Not by letting a murderer roam free!” Jack countered automatically, raising his voice, “We're the good guys here.” 

“An interesting point, Colonel. Because despite my extreme distaste for her – Faith is, most likely, one of the 'good guys' as well.” Wesley offered, much as he didn't like saying that. “She committed her crimes, yes. But in the end she turned herself in, and the circumstances leading up to her felony offenses are...complicated.” He frowned, “She was a very troubled young woman at the time, and much as I dislike to admit it, my poor showing as a Watcher did aggravate matters.” Wesley raised a hand before anyone could object further. 

“Believe me, I'm not exactly fond of the idea of letting Faith out of her cage. You should all be aware that she constituted much of the reason why I was fired from the Council...and moreover, she spent the better part of two hours torturing me one night, before giving up and surrendering herself to the Los Angeles police.” His voice went softer. “But be that as it may, I do believe she was genuine in her remorse, and likewise genuinely interested in paying her debt to society. What I'm proposing is letting her do exactly that – _if_ Faith accepts that choice. Just through an option more productive than merely rotting in prison. _And_ not as part of the general population here on Earth.” Wesley shrugged, “It struck me as the best idea under the circumstances.” 

After a few moments, Daniel spoke, “I can't say I like this idea.” The archeologist frowned, “I'm not happy about Slayers being 'activated' as young as they are, even if that's the way it is and there's nothing we can do about it. But we shouldn't expose a teenage girl to vampires and demons voluntarily, magical strength or not.” 

“Among the Jaffa, DanielJackson, age is less of a concern than skill in battle.” Teal'c pointed out. “Nor does this 'FaithLehane' sound as if she is as a normal female of the Tau'ri, if she has committed murder and practiced torture.” The Jaffa continued. “I would need to meet her, to look into her heart for myself in order to be certain, but – if she is genuine in her remorse over her past actions, I would advocate allowing her to help.” 

Jack frowned. “I hate to say it...but I guess Teal'c has a point. If she's old enough to commit murder and go to prison, then teenager or not, she's old enough to fight.” The idea of sending a kid into battle, and battle against vampires at that, was repulsive to him. Very much so. But Jack had spent enough time in Special Forces to know that there comes a point where someone stops being a 'kid' – and there was also an old saying about how a child becomes an adult, the first moment he wields a weapon in battle... 

General Hammond didn't say anything for a moment, then looked to Wesley. “Do you really think this Miss Lehane would actually be interested in some sort of...arrangement...with the United States Air Force?” 

Wesley shrugged, “I don't know, to be honest. Nor am I sure she's fit to be allowed into any sort of general population, either here on Earth or – elsewhere. I just thought that assuming you were receptive to the idea, and assuming some sort of parole could be arranged should she agree to help on P5X-194...well, the best option would probably be to speak with Faith directly, inform her of the situation, and see what happens from there.” 

“I'll speak to the President and the Joint Chiefs.” Hammond said, noddling once. “Assuming there's approval for this...rather unorthodox proposal of yours, you can go visit her at that prison facility. But I want you to take Colonel O'Neill with you.” 

“May I ask why, General?” Wesley raised an eyebrow. 

“I want the Colonel on hand. I want his judgment on Miss Lehane as well.” 

“Alright.” Wesley shrugged. “Reasonable enough.” 

**May 12th, 2002  
Visiting Room, Northern California Women's Facility**

Wesley sat on his side of the bulletproof glass, watching as Faith was let into the room on the other side and as she approached the prison-issue chair. After a moment, she sat down and picked up the intercom phone. 

“Hafta admit you're the _last_ person I was expecting to see, Wes. I figured you'd forgotten about me. Just like everyone else.” There was nothing of complaint in her voice. Not even a sour note. 

“You're rather difficult to forget, Faith.” Wesley replied calmly enough. He couldn't say it was easy seeing her again, not after what she'd done to him...but it had been quite a lot of time since that night, when she'd tortured him. And he'd been through the wringer more than once since. “Though yes, it has been a while.” 

“I'll say. You've changed.” She gestured to his neck. “I didn't give you that.” 

Wesley unconsciously brought his hand up to the scar on his neck. “No, you didn't.” Wesley lowered his hand. “How has life been for you, in here?” 

Faith shrugged, “Prison. Not like much happens here.” She passed it off as if she was discussing something no more noteworthy than the weather. “How have things been going in L.A. and Sunnydale? Been a while since I've heard from Angel.” 

“I couldn't tell you how things are going, really. Not on the Hellmouth, nor in Los Angeles.” Wesley replied. “And as for the other part, Angel and I have recently parted ways permanently. Likewise with Cordelia and the others.” 

Faith laughed, then stopped when she saw the flat expression on his face. “Holy shit. You're serious.” Her own expression grew more serious than Wesley had ever seen so far. “What the hell happened? I thought you'd never get out of Angel's pocket!” 

“It's a long story.” Wesley replied. “But in a nutshell, Angel tried to kill me, even if I rather deserved it. And his friends are likewise dead to me in all the ways that matter.” He kept going, “But that's not why I'm here.” 

“Then why?” Faith asked, puzzled. “Pretty sure you didn't come by to just talk.” She laughed somewhat bitterly, “Even Angel gave up on that, eventually.” 

“How would you like to get out of here?” 

Faith laughed again, this time with real amusement in her voice. “I'd love to, but I'm currently serving a twenty-five to life sentence here, Wes. Want to check back in a few decades when my parole comes up?” 

“No. And as for the rest of it, under normal circumstances, that's the way it should be. On the other hand, Faith, allowing yourself to be locked away from society in order to pay recompense for what you did – in one sense it's commendable, but from a certain point of view, it's also a waste of your talents.” Wesley looked back a moment at Colonel O'Neill, who was wearing civilian clothing and listening to Wesley's half of the conversation. 

“And these aren't normal circumstances? The apocalypse is here, and Buffy can't help? What?” Faith rolled her eyes. “If things are that bad, last thing you need is _me_ in the mix.” 

“This isn't about an upcoming apocalypse, Faith. It's merely an opportunity for you to use your Slayer powers productively – and serve out the rest of your sentence through community service, as it were.” 

“You've gotten better at the deliberately vague thing, Wes.” Faith replied, her eyes narrowing. “So what kind of community service did ya have in mind?” 

“Obviously, I can't exactly go into specific details here.” Wesley answered. “That, and you'd need to sign a nondisclosure agreement first – promising you won't tell anyone anything about the military's secrets.” 

“The military?” Faith cocked her head. “You're working for the G-Men now?” 

“More or less, I suppose.” Wesley gestured to the Colonel. “This is Colonel Jack O'Neill, United States Air Force.” 

“I'm not killing people for the government.” Faith replied immediately, staring at the approaching military officer in civilian clothing. “If that's what you guys are after-” 

“No. Not people.” Wesley saw the Colonel out of the corner of his eye. “Colonel O'Neill would like to talk to you now, I believe.” Wesley stood up and handed the phone to the man. Jack covered the mouthpiece with one hand. 

“So what's your verdict?” he asked the ex-Watcher. 

Wesley shrugged, “I think she's interested, and my recommendation right now would be a tentative yes to offering her the chance to leave here for you-know-where.” 

“I'll keep that in mind.” Jack sat down and held the phone up to his face, staring at the prison convict. “So. You're a Slayer.” 

“That's me.” Faith replied. “So what's the Air Force want with me?” 

“Pretty much what Wesley said.” Jack answered. “But I want to talk about you first. Kid, I'm not letting a murderer near my people just on his say-so.” 

“I'm no kid, old man. And you wanna get to know me? I'm game.” Faith told him, looking him in the eyes. “But first off, I want to know – how did a guy like Wes end up with the U.S. military?” 

“Long story short? A member of my team is an old friend of his. Something in...his line of work came up unexpectedly, and Daniel referred us to him. And now, he's referred us to you.” Jack rested his free hand on the table. “So. Three homicides and, what, a half-dozen counts of aggravated assault?” 

“Something like that.” Faith nodded without blinking, 

“Tell me about them. Why did you kill and hurt those people, and why should we just ignore all that and let you go?” 

“Hey, old man, what I did is a matter of public record – and I'm sure you can read! Besides, I'm sure Wes has already told you everything that wasn't in those so-called 'trial' transcripts. And as for the rest of it? I'm fine with staying right here and doing my time. I turned myself in, in case nobody bothered to tell ya?” Faith replied coolly, unfazed. “I wouldn't say no to a chance to do my time in a place with more things to do than stare at my cell walls, but I'm not gonna ask you to forgive and forget what I did.” She looked at the Colonel dead on, unflinching. 

Jack had to admire the conviction in her words. “The murders. Tell me details.” 

She shrugged. “The first one was an accident. Me and B were in the middle of a fight...he showed up outta nowhere, and I staked him, thinkin' he was a vamp. After that...I screwed up. I made mistakes.” 

“Ya think? And FYI, that's not enough. Nowhere near! Hell, if the first one was an accident – or not premeditated, anyway – why'd you kill again?” Jack demanded.

“I was a killer. I was evil. That's what I decided.” Faith replied. “And can't deny how the Mayor was the first person to really care about me. I was messed up, and I killed people for him.” 

“The Mayor?” 

“You know about me, about what I do and what I did, but you don't know about the Mayor?” 

Jack scowled, shooting a look at the nearby Englishman. “Guess Wesley hasn't told me everything.” 

“Yea. Guy likes to keep things to himself, sure as hell. Must be that stuff upper lip and that stick rammed up his English Channel.” Faith took a deep breath. “Mayor of Sunnydale was evil, old man. Majorly evil. Had vamps and demons working for him type evil. Long story short, Buffy and her merry band of friends beat him, I ended up in a coma for almost a year, then I tried to kill Angel, tortured Wes and...” 

“Turned yourself in.” Jack finished. “Yea, see, that's where I'm getting confused. Why?” 

“I finally came face to face with what I was.” Faith laughed darkly, without humor. “Turned myself in. Spent the last couple of years in here.” 

“And what about now?” 

“I already made my mistakes with killing people. I'm not crossing that line again.” 

Staring at her briefly, Jack set the phone down and nodded to Wesley. He got up and walked away. 

“I think you impressed him.” Wesley said after a moment, after picking up the phone. 

“So what does that mean, then?” Faith shrugged.

“It means, Faith, that I'd wager you'll soon be coming on a trip with me to a – rather distant location.” 

**May 16th , 2002  
P5X-194**

Wesley watched Faith step through the Stargate onto the surface of this alien world. She was dressed in the usual green fatigues SGC civilians wore, given that she'd been lacking anything but a prisoner's uniform when she'd quietly been paroled and shoved out the front doors of the facility by none other than the Warden himself. Wesley smirked to himself, imagining the looks on the faces of Wolfram & Hart's lawyers when they heard _that_ piece of news. Lilah Morgan would no doubt be both infuriated and in fear of her life, now that Lee Mercer was dead and Lindsey MacDonald had long since resigned and left Los Angeles... 

In any case, Faith had gotten into the unmarked van waiting for her outside the front gate, and they had driven to the nearest Air Force base for transport to Colorado. Major Davis had taken care of the nondisclosure agreement, before the brunette Chosen One had been taken down into the depths of NORAD and told the truth about what she'd signed up for... 

SG-1 came out behind her, and Wesley could tell that Jack was ready to use his personal sidearm at a moment's notice. He had the pistol ready, without being obvious about it, or actually pointing it at her. 

Faith looked around and laughed, “When you said the planet looked a lot like Earth, I didn't figure you'd be this right.” She saw all five people staring at her after a moment. “What?” 

“Usually, first time Gate travel comes with momentary nausea.” Sam answered. 

“Yes. Must be her Slayer healing, or something along those lines.” Wesley suggested, then he looked at Faith. “Sense any vampires?” 

Faith shook her head. “But then again,” She gestured to the sky. “Daylight. And nothin' apart from woods for miles around, Watcher guy.” She looked over at SG-1, “What do you guys call this planet again?” 

“P5X-194.” Sam replied. 

Faith laughed in genuine humor. “Yea, that's not a name.” 

“Well, the locals don't have one either, even though they live here. And myself, I voted for Planet Dracula.” Jack commented, earning another amused noise from Faith. 

“We should head to Tellis.” Daniel said after a moment. “I'm sure Jaresh and Sister Agata will want to meet you.” He looked over to Wesley, who shrugged. 

Wesley and Daniel had debated telling Faith the whole 'Sacred Warrior' thing that this people of this world had going, but eventually decided against it. If nothing else, it would be rather amusing to watch Faith discover that the locals believed she was effectively this planet's Messiah. 

He very much doubted it would go to her head – even if she'd been 'evil', Faith wouldn't have wanted worship, Wesley was quite sure of that. Besides, nowadays, she just wanted a chance to make amends – and he suspected that here, so many light-years away from Earth, she would finally get it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:**  I don't own Angel the Series or Stargate SG-1

Thanks to Starway Man my beta-reader

**Note:**  Welcome to the final chapter of Old Friends: A New Direction. I have tentative plans for a third story in this series (maybe even a fourth, but that one is even more tentative), but it won't be for a while (I really shouldn't have started OFND when I did, given the number of other fics I had going) unless my muse demands something sooner, which is possible, but unlikely. Either way, on with the fic!

Old Friends: A New Direction

By Alkeni

Chapter 10

**May 16th, 2002  
Tellis, P5X-194**

“So what's with all the axes painted on the walls?” Faith asked, “And that axe thing on display out front?”

“They call it the 'Scythe', actually. It's a symbol of their religious faith in the High Powers – as far as I can tell, the Powers That Be on Earth by another name. It works for them against vampires much like a cross or a Star of David does back home. Which to my mind proves that what's important is the belief in the symbol, not the holy icon itself.” Wesley explained.

“Wait. These guys worship the Powers that Be Angel told me about?  _Those_  Powers? Shit, Wes, have you told the people around here about all the crap those cosmic jerks pull? Or rather, don't pull?” Faith laughed, looking around.

“No, actually. I, ah, decided it'd be better not to insult their religion that way. Might be worthwhile if you consider doing the same.” Wesley told her pointedly.

Faith shrugged, “Hey, they wanna worship the Powers, that's their choice. No skin off my nose, I've never cared about that sorta crap – long as they don't try and make  _me_  worship them, it's all cool.” She walked up to one of the tapestries, about to touch it – when a calm, smooth voice spoke from behind them.

“Please do not do that.” Sister Agata, still affecting that airy, almost floating gait that by now seemed iconic to her, said as she approached. She looked at SG-1, Wesley and Faith. “So you return again, with yet another. Have you spoken with your leaders, Daniel Jackson?”

“We have.” Daniel nodded. “We'd like to speak with Jaresh about exactly what terms we can reach regarding access to the mine, and related concerns. But, ah, that's not the only reason we're here. When last we met, you spoke of your Promised One. A Sacred Warrior that would come through the Great Ring – the Stargate – and then, uh, what was it you said, exactly?” Daniel asked, trying to remember.

“Carve a swath through the Nightwalkers that would be felt for generations to come.” Agata answered. “Though I fail to see why you bring this up, here and now. While it was...somewhat heartening to learn that the Sacred Warrior is your Slayer, and thus, she does exist-”

Faith interrupted, incredulous, looking at Wesley and Daniel. “Get out! Are you telling me that there's some kind of Slayer-related prophecy involved here? And you didn't tell me this before, why?”

“Well, there were a number of reasons, actually.” Wesley answered, ignoring Sister Agata's look of confusion. “Faith, you should know that prophecy is complicated at best – Heaven knows  _I_  know that, from firsthand experience. But by coming here through the Stargate, you have fulfilled  _a_  prophecy, yes. One that the people of this world have passed down through the generations. Assuming you stick around and keep your end of the bargain, of course.”

“I already agreed to do that.” Faith replied, “I made a promise to you and to myself that this place is gonna be my new home, and I'm sticking to it.” She frowned, “Even if it looks like these guys are living in the freaking Dark Ages.” Daniel opened his mouth to correct her, but Wesley just put a hand on his friend's arm and shook his head. It wasn't worth the argument. “Anyway, Wes, I still wanna know – why the hell didn't you tell me that these people were waiting for a Slayer like me to show up?”

Her calm, dignified mask now completely blown apart, a shell-shocked Sister Agata looked from Faith to Wesley and Daniel, then back again, then:

“This is your Slayer – I cannot...your world needs her, to protect your own people-” 

Abruptly shutting herself up, Agata walked up to Faith. She took Faith's hand in her own, ignoring the other woman's 'hey!'. Immediately, Sister Agata's eyes flashed a brilliant white and the priestess staggered back, catching herself against the wall, barely avoiding falling unceremoniously on her rear.

“It's true. The Sacred Warrior is finally among us...” She murmured in combined shock and ecstasy, “Chosen of the High Powers...never in my lifetime...” Agata fell to her knees, hands clasped to her chest as she began to pray.

“Holy- Lady...Agata.” Faith started, gesturing at the woman to get up, “get up – please! Like, what the hell are you doing?”

Agata obeyed immediately, looking confused. “How- how is it you're here- your world-”

“Short version?” Faith said with a shrug, “There's two of us. B died, then came back, but another Slayer got called. She died, and then it was my turn. And now here I am.” 

“Two Sacred Warriors?” Sister Agata was now looking even more confused than ever. 

“Yeah, guess so. Wanna take my advice? Just accept it and go with the flow, or whatever you call it around here.” Faith took a breath, then removed the stake from her belt and twirled it lightly. “Look, just so we're clear on this, I'm not some sacred  _thing_  to be worshiped. Okay? I'm a person, just like you. And I'm here to kill the local vamps, sure, but that's all. I don't need people falling on their knees whenever they see me because they think I'm like their...Messiah.” She looked over at Wesley and Daniel. “I use that word right?” Wesley nodded, and Faith looked somewhat introspective. “Look at that. Guess all that reading in prison actually paid off.” She looked back over to Agata.

The priestess still looked completely bamboozled, but she took a deep breath and nodded, slowly. “You...you will have some trouble with our people...immediately falling to their knees and praying, when they learn who and what you are. And on that...your name? I should apologize – I have not even asked...”

“Name's Faith. Faith Lehane, actually, but just call me Faith.” Faith answered, smirking a little.

“On behalf of all my people, Faith, I bid you welcome to Tellis and to this world.” Agata said. She looked to the others from Earth. “You have given my people an incredible gift. For that – I will make sure Jaresh is reasonable in his negotiations with you.” She looked at Faith. “Though he may need convincing that you are in fact the Sacred Warrior-”

“Yeah, that whole Sacred Warrior thing. Can ya please just call me a Slayer?” Faith asked, interrupting at once. “Like I said before, I'm not sacred.” She laughed half-humorously, “Hell, far from it.” She frowned, as if something unpleasant just occurred to her, but she didn't say anything more.

“I- I will try.” Agata said after a moment more to compose herself. She snapped her fingers twice and two white-robed women approached her from farther back in the hall. She turned to one, “Find Lord Defender Jaresh, and bring him here at once. Tell him SG-1 has arrived to finish the negotiations for the access to  the mine. And tell him that there is another matter that must be discussed – that we will need a full assembly of the people, before sunset. Tellis must learn of the Sac- the Slayer's arrival.” Agata tripped over the unfamiliar term in place of the one she had used all her life. The acolyte nodded, and then left the Hall after a small bow.

Then Agata turned to Faith. “How great is your strength? I have studied the ancient prophecies, but the words of the High Powers are vague on the specifics – only that your strength is enough to fight the Nightwalkers. Could you perhaps...bend a steel bar?”

Faith shrugged, “Yeah. Easy.” Wesley resisted the urge to comment on that – bending a steal bar was more than just 'easy' for her. It wasn't the security or the structure that had kept her in prison for just over two years, after all. Then the Slayer asked, “Why?”

“As I said, Jaresh may need convincing. He has always been a skeptic of the prophecy...of your very existence. And unlike myself, he lacks the gifts given by the High Powers that allowed me to...recognize your aura. Just as I cannot be lied to, I can recognize the aura of the Sacred Warrior- my apologies, the Slayer.” Agata stumbled a little again.

“You can't be lied to?” Wesley raised an eyebrow. He hadn't known or even suspected that...

“When I hold the hand of another, I can know the truth of what they say – a gift the High Powers grant to all their Voices.” Agata shrugged – something that immediately threw Daniel and Wesley off-balance, the motion seeming totally out of character for her. “Granted, I cannot know if the person is wrong, or if the information they believe is true is in fact a lie told them by another. I can only know if what the person says is true in their minds.”

“Interesting.” Daniel said, peering at the priestess in rapt fascination. “You're like a, a living lie detector.”

“I've never heard it put that way before, but yes.” Agata agreed. She turned to the other robed woman she'd summoned. “Proceed to the closest blacksmith and purchase a bar of steel from him – a quality item, the best he has to offer. Then return here with all possible haste.” The woman bowed just a touch and left the Hall.

**May 16th, 2002  
Tellis, P5X-194**

It took about five minutes for the second acolyte sent for the steel bar to come back with it. Faith hefted the item a few times, then set it aside, waiting. Well, talking with Agata some more, wanting to learn about what it was that she'd just walked into. Daniel had actually thought Wesley had warned Faith about the whole 'prophecy' thing, but apparently not.

_I think he might actually be enjoying her discomfort and confusion._ Wesley didn't much like Faith, that much was obvious. Having been filled in on more of the details, it was hard to blame him, though Daniel could not help but wish Wesley would be willing to at least forgive her...or at least not enjoy her discomfort at being an object of veneration. Indulging in that sort of thing didn't help anyone. 

While they waited, Daniel considered the upcoming negotiations with Jaresh. He already knew the man was going to want weapons – the flamethrowers, or even staff weapons. That was more than the SGC could give. They'd made that mistake before. They couldn't do it again. Foodstuffs, medical supplies – medical techniques, advanced agricultural options. All possible. But not weapons.

_Unfortunately, I'm afraid Jaresh might be stubborn on the issue._  On one level, Daniel couldn't help but sympathize. Anything that could improve the ability of his people to defend themselves from the vampires that were rampant on the planet was something Tellis, and all the human settlements here, sorely needed. But...

There was no was way he could make such an agreement. General Hammond had been quite clear on that. 

We may need Agata for the negotiations then, Daniel thought, recalling the woman's comment about making sure Jaresh was reasonable during the upcoming negotiation session.

Roughly five minutes after the acolyte with the bar had returned, the other acolyte arrived with Jaresh in tow.

“Colonel O'Neill. Major Carter. Dr. Jackson. Teal'c. Wesley.” He nodded to each in turn as he saw them. “Welcome back, it is a pleasure to see you again – and good to know that we may finally begin the negotiations. But before we begin, I suppose the obvious question is – who is this woman with you?” Jaresh's eyes fell on Faith curiously, and unless Daniel missed his guess, he examined her from top to bottom. Thankfully, at least, he didn't seem to be leering.

_I get the feeling Faith wouldn't put up with that at all._

“Name's Faith.” the Slayer answered. “So, you're Jaresh?”

“I am. And what brings you to Tellis? Are you here about the mine?”

The Slayer shook her head. “Nope, the vampires.”

Agata stepped forward to stand next to Faith. “Jaresh, this is Faith – she is the Sacred Warrior of prophecy. She who has finally come through the Great Ring, to fight the Nightwalkers.”

Jaresh looked from Agata to Faith, then scoffed. “This is the Sacred Warrior? This person is the mythical savior of legend? I'll accept that she may be a skilled warrior – she certainly carries herself as one – but she cannot be the one who will carve a swath through the Nightwalkers that will be felt through the generations!”

“Wanna bet?” Faith asked, smirking slightly. “I could have you on the ground in less than a minute.” Faith picked up the steel bar – and she tossed it to Jaresh. “But let's go with a little demo first. That feel like real steel to you?” 

Jaresh examined the bar carefully, and then nodded once. “Indeed.” 

“Okay, toss it back.” Faith caught the bar and then, with little apparent effort, bent it around completely, so the two ends of the bar met. She tossed it lightly to the floor, looking at Jaresh and raising one eyebrow. “You know anybody who could do that who  _wasn't_  the Chosen One?”

“I...no. I, I...” He managed to stammer after a moment. Suddenly, Jaresh clasped his hands to his chest and murmured something Daniel couldn't make out – he could only assume it was a prayer of some sort.

“Look, can you please  _not_  do that?” Faith said immediately, looking annoyed. “And for the record – I'm  _not_  your mythical savior, guy. I'm just a Slayer. Yea, I can kill the crap out of vampires, and that's what I agreed to come here to do. For at least another twenty-” Something dawned on her, and she frowned, then looked over at Sam. “Wait up. How long is a year here, Earth time? 'Cause if I'm remembering what little High School Astronomy I learned right, Earth's year is the length it is because of its orbit or something, and other planets have different orbits. So...how exactly long is a year here?”

Sam shrugged after a moment, “I...I never actually checked, to be honest with you. A day here is about twenty-seven hours long – just under, actually – but I haven't had a chance yet to try and figure out the length of the planetary year-”

“Five-hundred and nineteen days.” Sister Agata interrupted. “Our world makes a complete circuit around its sun every five-hundred and nineteen days, more or less.”

“Long winters, then.” Sam said after a moment.

“Long, yes, but thankfully not very cold. Tellis is fortunate enough to be quite temperate. We only get a little snow during the worst days of the winter. Doubtless elsewhere the conditions are worse; but as I have said before, we are unable to explore due to the Nightwalkers.” Jaresh answered. He looked to Faith, then to Wesley and Daniel, “So, you would give us your...your Slayer...but there is something I do not understand. Is she not needed on your world? Granted, I will not object to your sacrifice, but I cannot help wondering – will you not take her back if you need her on your world?”

Faith couldn't help but chuckle. “Nah. They couldn't 'take me' anywhere I didn't want to go, and besides, there's two of us nowadays. As in, two Slayers.” Off Jaresh's expression, she added, “Long and complicated story, dude. Still, all ya need to know is that I'm here now, and I'm going to be here for a good long while. Next fifteen to twenty years, at least.” She looked over at O'Neill a moment. “Work release, community service, that sort of thing.”

“I understand the words you are speaking, but I suspect not the true context of what you're telling me. Still, that is not the issue for now.” Jaresh turned to SG-1. “So, what exactly is it that you want from Tellis? Obviously, you want access to the mine and the Trinium, as you call it, within there. But I would imagine it isn't as simple as merely that.”

“Well...somewhat, but not entirely that simple, yes.” Daniel agreed. “We'd want more than simply the right to mine the Trinium. Our miners and engineers would need space to set up tents and other structures. Not to mention that the mining operation, on the scale we'd hope to do it, might be very disruptive in general.” Daniel went down his mental checklist, “The other significant thing is that we'd want to see if we can make arrangements where our miners and the people we assign to guard them would be able to purchase or trade for any spare food your people might have – it might reduce our logistical burden somewhat.”

“The most practical option, from our point of view,” Daniel continued, “would be for us to outright buy the mine and the land immediately around it, making it the property of the SGC and the United States Government.”

Jaresh considered Daniel's words for a moment, then nodded, “That mine is effectively useless to us, and the land around it too far from Tellis to be of any practical use. I believe that in theory, at least, your proposal is acceptable,” he replied. “Assuming we can come to a reasonable agreement.” He looked at Daniel directly, eye to eye. “Please understand, I think that you are trying to cheat me and Tellis, I will request that Sister Agata confirm you are offering a fair trade.”

“Jaresh!” Agata scolded the Lord Defender, a small note of horror in her voice.

“Again, I do not believe they intend to cheat us.” Jaresh clarified, looking the Voice of the High Powers in the eye in turn. “But I cannot operate on mere belief when executing my duties as Lord Defender. I must have certainty, Agata. And  _as_  Lord Defender, it is within my rights to request for you to use your truthfinding in the service of Tellis.”

Daniel shrugged. It made sense, from a certain point of view – a society used to having truth confirmed by magic would probably fall into the habit of using such magic for all serious transactions and decisions. It made sense, anyway. It didn't bother him, at any rate – he had no plans to cheat these people out of anything, and neither did General Hammond.

“We will not cheat you out of anything, or bargain falsely.” Daniel told Jaresh truthfully. “But if that needs to be confirmed at some point,” he looked Jaresh in the eye now, “I'm alright with Sister Agata doing that, when it's necessary.” The linguist took a deep breath, ready to counter the incoming request for weapons. “So. Shall we begin?”

**May 17th, 2002  
Wesley's Apartment, Colorado Springs**

Wesley clinked his bottle of beer – quality British beer, rather than the colored water typical in America – with the one in Daniel's hand. He was past the point of needing to drown his sorrows, but given everything that had happened in the last several days, Wesley needed to unwind a little. Daniel, like always, wasn't going to be able to handle more than one beer, so he had the other man to keep him in line.

“Well, I'd say that went better than expected.” Wesley commented. “You got Jaresh to give on the issue of weapons, and negotiated an adequate deal for the SGC to be able to mine the Trinium of that planet.”

“Yeah. Only after an hour and a half of talking our way around the weapons issue.” Daniel pointed out. “And only then because Agata intervened and all but forced him to give on it. Which,” he pointed at his friend, “she only did because you came up with the idea of bringing Faith to their planet.”

“Perhaps.” Wesley conceded, “but I admit, I had no idea that would happen. My concern was merely for the localized issue of the vampire problem in and around the mine, long-term.” Wesley shrugged, “Besides, Jaresh's desire for some kind of improvement on the weapons he has is more than reasonable.” He held up a hand before Daniel could object, “I understand why you didn't want to give him flamethrowers and the like. It's a reasonable concern how when you give away weapons, they can be used against you later on. But so was the man's position in trying to get everything he could to prevent his people being killed by the undead.”

Daniel had to nod. “I suppose so. But given some of what we've seen and done already, I'm starting to understand why Starfleet has the Prime Directive.” At Wesley's blank expression, Daniel waved a hand. “Star Trek sci-fi reference. I've never seen the show myself, but some of my staff have, and they've mentioned it often enough for me to know the gist. It's the golden rule that exists in the universe of the TV show – don't interfere in the affairs of less technologically advanced races, ever. Sure, they break it in like, half the episodes or something, and we break it all the time. But there are good reasons for that policy.” He frowned. “Arming people with weapons is probably the only place we can truly draw the line, I think.”

Daniel took another sip of his beer. “But we did make a deal. Tellis will benefit from the medicines, medical techniques and improvements to their agriculture. Sure, it'll take our medical and engineering staff a bit of time to show them everything and how to use the knowledge we're giving them, but...” Jackson laughed, “There's some people still at the SGC – mostly the military, but also some in Sam's department – who think the people on less advanced worlds are stupid, as they're, ah, 'primitive'.” Daniel's tone made it pretty clear what he thought of that term. “Jaresh proves that wrong. Hell, he might be one of the cleverest people I've ever met.”

“He certainly knew how to ask the right questions about what you were offering.” Wesley agreed, taking a gulp of his beer.

“He did.” Daniel looked at Wesley, “By the way – what was it you and Faith talked about, right before we left Tellis?”

“Ah, that. Well, she asked me if I was interested in being her Watcher again at some point – Faith said there were a lot of people she needed to make amends to, and I was one of them. She wanted to know – to learn if it was even possible to make up for what she did to me.” Wesley looked past Daniel a moment, “I'm not sure if it is – and I'm not sure if she even needs to. In a way, the books between us might be even already.”

“So what did you tell her? I mean, you're not seriously planning to live in Tellis on a permanent basis, right?” That wasn't really an option, as far as Daniel was concerned. 

Sure, he'd be useful there too, helping safeguard the Trinium operation, but the SGC needed Wesley's skill with languages here – plus there was his usefulness in a fight, his tactical ability to analyze a situation...Wes had a lot to offer the SGC, when you got right down to it. Besides, Daniel was looking forward to working alongside his friend again – apart from this mission, and when he'd been visiting L.A. last year, the two of them hadn't actually worked together on anything since Oxford.

“I pointed out that trying to be a Watcher by long-distance correspondence was not exactly the best of ideas...but,” Wesley smiled, “Faith did manage to get me to concede to that, somehow. We'll be exchanging letters – once a week or thereabouts, I'd imagine, but...” He laughed softly. “Quite honestly, Daniel, being a Watcher by correspondence wasn't exactly what I was trained for. But then again...I haven't been doing what I was trained for in years, so why should I let that stop me now? In truth, I did contemplate staying in Tellis for the next six months or so – I could learn so much about the vampires there, things that my former colleagues in England would easily kill for the chance of finding out. But...after thinking about it...I came to the conclusion that I'd much prefer to work alongside you again, old friend.” Wesley said, before taking a small sip from his beer. “The truth is you saved me from my inner demons by showing up when you did, Daniel. I quite honestly shudder to think where I'd be right now, if you hadn't arrived with the rest of your team back then.” 

“Not that I'm saying the concept is completely ridiculous, but...I'm guessing reconciliation with your former friends wouldn't exactly have been likely?” 

“No.” Wesley shook his head. “More than unlikely, it would have been utterly impossible. Especially after Angel learns that Faith basically disappeared after being paroled from prison, and that the Warden saw me collect her and drive off in an unmarked van. It wouldn't surprise me if, to that vampire's mind, the only possible conclusion is that I kidnapped and/or killed the Slayer for revenge, after somehow arranging for Faith's release from that women's correctional facility.” 

Daniel frowned. “Yeah, um, speaking of which...that whole Slayer thing? Just before we left P5X-194, I couldn't help remembering what you told me a while back. You know, the whole 'if one dies, the next is Called' thing. I mean, if Faith _does_  die there – not saying she will, of course, but slaying vampires is dangerous work and there are no guarantees – Wesley, what do you think will happen then? I mean, will we get a new Slayer here on Earth? Or – is it possible if that someone on that planet will be the next Chosen One?” 

Wesley raised an eyebrow. “I don't know. Utterly no idea. We'll just have to wait and see, I suppose.” He shrugged, “While it's not the same as fighting vampires, demons and the forces of darkness, the fight against the Goa'uld sounds like it will be just as much the good fight as the one I left behind in Los Angeles. Fighting the good fight is what's important, and that is another reason I'm staying at the SGC.” He raised his bottle of beer. “Here's to working at the SGC, assuming General Hammond makes such a job offer.”

Daniel smiled. “He'll offer. I don't doubt it for a second. And I look forward to working with you, Wes.”

**Author's Note:**  And here we reach the end of Old Friends: A New Direction, the second installment of the Old Friends series. Many thanks to all those you read this fic, reviewed it, favorited/recommended it, and all those who enjoyed it. Special thanks to Starway Man, for being my beta-reader, and of course, thanks to the writers on Angel and Stargate SG-1, all of them, for creating such interesting worlds and characters to play with, and for giving me countless hours of entertainment watching the shows they wrote.

**Old Friends: Return to L.A:** _It has been several months since Wesley has joined the SGC and in that time, he's visited a dozen worlds and learned a half-dozen new languages. He's fought Jaffa and even come face to face with a few so-called 'gods'. He's managed to put the events that happened before he left L.A. behind him, and embrace his new job and mission. But when a canopic jar goes missing from a Los Angeles museum, and the evidence suggests that demons and magic may well have been involved...Wesley will need to return to the City of Angels, and he'll find out that burning all your bridges behind you makes it very hard to go back to where you were._


End file.
